


Month of Miracles

by Quickspinner



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/M, Fluff, Month of Miracles 2020, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 40,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27833887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quickspinner/pseuds/Quickspinner
Summary: A series of ficlets in response to a December/holiday prompt list (which I made up myself). Holiday-themed Lukanette fluff.
Relationships: Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 214
Kudos: 187





	1. Popcorn

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Popcorn
> 
> Find the prompt list [here](https://quickspinner.tumblr.com/post/636231373956464640/month-of-miracles) if you want to join in!

“This is kind of a weird tradition,” Luka commented, picking up another piece of popcorn from the bowl in front of him and considering it. He was tempted to pop it in his mouth, but he knew from several earlier trials that the unseasoned, unbuttered popcorn was bland and not really worth the effort of chewing it. “I’ve seen it in movies and stuff, but I’ve never done it myself.” 

Marinette reached for a piece of popcorn too, but she didn’t hesitate before piercing it with her needle, sliding it down the thread to rest against its previously impaled fellows. “It probably wasn’t weird when it started,” she shrugged, reaching for a cranberry from the neighboring bowl to give the popcorn garland some color. “I don’t know what the history of it is and it’s kind of fallen out of fashion. I really think Maman just got me started on it to keep me busy as a kid. She’d hand me bowls of popcorn and cranberries, and a needle and thread, and I’d spend hours sitting on the floor coming up with different patterns.” She shrugged. “Plus you don’t have to store them, you just throw them out at the end of the season.” She grinned up at Luka. “Biodegradable too.” 

“Well, that is something,” Luka admitted, grinning himself as he tried to find a way to spear the bit of popcorn that would hold. More than once he’d stabbed himself either instead of or in addition to the popcorn, but his fingers were tough and he barely felt it. He was far more aware of Marinette’s thigh pressed against his and her warmth against his side. She was so close that he had to lean back slightly when she pulled her thread through the cranberry, but he didn’t mind. He could have suggested that they portion the supplies into smaller bowls so that they didn’t have to sit so close, but he had no plans to do so unless Marinette was uncomfortable. 

She didn’t  _ seem _ uncomfortable at all. On the contrary, she was smiling and happy, more light-hearted than he’d seen her in a long time. They chatted and joked while the supplies in the bowls gradually diminished and the garlands draped over their laps grew. Marinette occasionally leaned into him to giggle when something particularly amused her. She buried her face in his arm with a whine when he teased her a bit too far, and then peeked up at him with her pretty blue eyes before hiding her red face in his arm again—possibly because his smile had gotten a little too warm and fond as he looked down at her. 

Luka returned his attention to his work, but the fond smile remained. Despite the silliness of the task, and his general lack of skill at it, Luka was about as happy as he supposed it was possible to be in life. He was warmer here in the living room above the bakery than he ever was on the boat in winter, he’d had an excellent breakfast pastry when he arrived, and Juleka’s texts had been full of glee at her successful holiday shopping endeavors. Marinette was beside him, including him in a tradition she enjoyed, and she was relaxed and content and enjoying herself—there really wasn’t much more he could ask for. 

“That’s it!” Marinette said cheerfully, bouncing a little as she held up her finished garland. The bowls were empty, and the rug in front of the couch was littered with bits of popcorn. Luka was pretty sure he’d accidentally stepped on a dropped piece and crushed it into bits, but Marinette didn’t seem to care about the mess. 

“Will you help me get it on the tree?” Marinette asked, turning towards him. “You’re taller.” 

“Of course,” Luka smiled, and let Marinette lead him down into the bakery. He draped his garland, which wasn’t nearly as full or as well-made as Marinette’s, on one of the small trees decorating the counter. Then he patiently followed Marinette’s instructions to help her get her garland wrapped around the larger tree. The tree took up half the bakery floor, and there were already a few popcorn garlands wrapped around the lower half. Luka could hear Tom singing in the back, but Sabine was nowhere in sight. After several failed attempts to arrange the top of the tree to Marinette’s satisfaction, Luka finally just wrapped his arms around her legs and picked her up bodily so she could fuss with the garland herself. When she was done he let her slide to the ground, and they both regarded the tree, Marinette with satisfaction, and Luka with contentment. 

Marinette turned to him and Luka looked down at her. “Thank you, Luka,” she said, and popped up on her toes. Luka moved almost unconsciously to receive her usual kiss to the cheek, but instead her hand cupped his face, turning him, and the shock of her lips against his reverberated through his entire body. 

She held it long enough to prove it hadn’t been a mistake or accident, then released him with a mischievous  _ mwah _ . Luka blinked stupidly at her, his tongue darting out unconsciously to taste her on his lips. Marinette blushed hard but looked extremely pleased with herself. 

“Are you, um…” Marinette gestured vaguely, clearly trying to be nonchalant though she was nearly visibly vibrating with repressed nervous excitement. Her eyes were sparkling and though she was clearly trying to restrain her smile, she wasn’t succeeding very well. “Are you all popcorned out, or would you like to hang out a little longer and watch a movie with me?”

Luka was already grinning stupidly, but now his face was beginning to hurt. “Ah,” he began, raising his eyes to the ceiling to gather himself before he could look back at her and grin with anything approaching smoothness. “The only thing I would like less than popcorn right now is pizza, but...if there’s Dupain-Cheng hot chocolate and biscotti on offer…” 

Marinette leaned forward slightly. “It’s already on the stove,” she said, and then turned, picking up an entire jar of biscotti off the counter as she went. 

Okay, Luka thought as he quickly followed, barely restraining himself from running after her to crush her in his arms, he could admit he’d been wrong. It  _ was _ actually possible to be happier. 


	2. Evergreen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Evergreen

Marinette had planned to meet Luka outside, but when she stepped out of the door of the apartment above the bakery, he was already coming up the stairs. He stepped into the hallway and opened his arms, and Marinette threw herself into them gladly. She snuggled close against him and sighed happily, but then frowned, sniffing. “Why do you smell like a Christmas tree?” she blurted, straightening to look up at him. 

Luka blinked, and to her surprise, blushed faintly. “It’s cologne. You don’t like it?” His hands dropped away from her, fluttering uncertainly for a moment before dropping to his sides. 

Marinette stared at him for a moment, then realized how rude she must have sounded and waved her hands frantically in a negating gesture. “No, no, it’s nice! I like it. I was just surprised.”

Luka shrugged. “It was a gift from my aunt. It’s been sitting around forever, but then the other day you mentioned how much you liked the smell of evergreen and I remembered that I had it and…” He shrugged again, slouching slightly and looking at his feet. 

Marinette took a moment to absorb the idea that Luka had changed something about himself, however small, to please her. Then she smiled up at him. “Oh. Sorry, it was just kind of unexpected. It’s, um. It’s nice though!” She hoped her smile didn’t look as forced as it felt. 

“Marinette,” Luka sighed, not quite rolling his eyes, but directing his gaze up somewhere over her head for a moment before bringing it back to her. “It’s okay, it’s no big deal if you don’t like it. I just won’t wear it again.” 

Marinette wilted slightly and sighed, looking away. She should have known better. “I do like it, really. It’s nice...it’s just...wrong. I like it as a smell, I do.” She pouted ever so slightly. “It’s just not what you’re supposed to smell like. Smell is really strongly linked to memory, you know, and you, you don’t smell like winter or the woods. You smell like Coppertone sunscreen, and steel, and...and wind, but underneath it all I can still smell  _ you _ , and this is nice but it’s not right and it covers  _ you _ up completely and—” She shut her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m being weird, aren’t I? I must sound like a total creep, Luka I’m so sorry—” 

“Don’t be sorry.” 

Marinette’s eyes flew open. If the sudden deep huskiness in his voice hadn’t been enough to stop her in her tracks, the way he was looking at her would have been. 

Marinette gaped at him, blushing hard. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it again and swallowed hard as Luka took one step forward, and could only close her eyes and move her face to meet him as he kissed her—and oh, did he kiss her, burying both hands in her hair and tilting her head back slightly. He was gentle, as always, but there was a hard edge to his kiss that made her fingers curl tight into the fabric of his hoodie. The evergreen smell of his cologne washed over her, not overwhelming but unignorable, simultaneously pleasant and a frustrating distraction. 

“I love you,” he breathed, and kissed her again, and again. They were both panting when he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed. 

“No one’s ever cared about me enough to be so attached to the way I smell,” he murmured, and then looked down, overwhelmed. “I just...I—” 

Marinette put her hands on his face and pulled him gently back to her mouth, inviting him to show her what he couldn’t seem to say. He did, drawing her close, his kiss turning achingly tender, though she could still feel that thrilling edge of urgency in the way his hands flexed against her. 

“I love you,” he murmured again. “I love how much thought you put into everything, even me. I love it, I love you, and I love the way you make me feel...important. Noticed.” 

Marinette began to laugh breathlessly, because wasn’t that what he’d always done for her? She hardly felt judging his personal scent choices was even remotely equivalent to the way he attended to everything about her, but...it made her happy that he felt that way, even if it was only a small fraction of what he gave her. Her fingers smoothed the lapels of his hoodie where she had crumpled them. Luka leaned into her touch, eyes closing, and nuzzled her temple as he drew in a deep breath through his nose and let it out in a sigh of pure contentment. Marinette slipped her arms up around his neck and waited.

“I don’t usually mind the word weird,” Luka finally said into the quiet space between them. “But I hate it when you say it about yourself, because it almost always means that you think you like something too much. You’re a passionate person and I hate that people have made you feel ashamed about that.” He kissed her lips softly this time, almost reverently. “Love me extravagantly, Marinette,” he whispered. “I don’t mind at all.” 

Later, Marinette would be grateful that few people were as observant as Luka. It was hard enough to bear his knowing smile, without having to explain to someone else why the smell of evergreens always made her blush. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has always been my headcanon of what Luka would smell like. No disrespect to anyone who thinks he _would_ smell like evergreen. <3


	3. Winter Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Winter Kisses
> 
> This is kind of a callback to [this piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21677485/chapters/51698572) and [this piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21677485/chapters/52000696) from last year’s holiday prompts, but you don’t have to have read them to get this.

December, Marinette reflected, was a dreary time to move house. The sky hung grey and heavy-looking overhead and the wind was sharp even though the activity of hauling boxes kept the little moving crew warm. Still, it was hard not to be happy despite the weather, and she and Luka shared a broad grin as they carried the first pair of boxes into their new apartment. Many hands made light work, and sooner than Marinette could have reasonably expected, the door shut behind the last of their helpers, all sent on their way with fresh cookies and many thanks. Marinette and Luka turned to survey their new domain. 

They couldn’t see much of it beyond the wall of boxes, but knowing it was there and it was  _ theirs _ was enough. Luka put his arms around Marinette and pressed his lips to her cheek, but she swatted him away absently, already planning their next step. 

The boxes from Marinette’s room were meticulously labeled and carefully stacked, but predictably Luka’s were barely labeled at all, and were piled up more haphazardly since they were all different, usually odd sizes. “I don’t suppose you know which box has all those blankets we stole from your mom?” she muttered, eyeing the pile.

“Probably all of them,” Luka laughed. “I used them as padding for a lot of things.”

Marinette shoved him off her with a scowl. “Not funny, Luka. It’s supposed to be cold tonight.” 

“Well, we’ll just have to snuggle,” he suggested, still laughing as he put his arms around her again. Marinette slapped his chest and sighed, but leaned into him, resting her cheek on his chest for a moment and smiling against her will, happy that he was happy. 

“You’ll be singing a different tune when I’m putting my cold feet on you tonight,” she warned.

“As long as the rest of you is on me too I doubt I’ll even notice.” 

“Oh, stop,” Marinette shoved away from him again, laughing. “You’re terrible today.”

“I’m happy,” Luka shrugged, and then swept his arms out to encompass their small, box-filled apartment. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this day.” 

“I have  _ some _ idea,” Marinette teased, poking him in the chest. “And if you want to be doing  _ anything _ in that bed tonight, including sleeping, we’re going to have to get it made up, and we’re not doing  _ that _ until the kitchen stuff is unpacked.” At least she had insisted on new sheets and bed linens that they’d picked out together, and she’d taken them home with her to wash, so she knew where they were.

“Our first night here and you’re holding the bed hostage?” Luka grinned. 

“Or we could eat pizza tonight and you could sleep on the couch,” Marinette offered sweetly. 

Luka winced. “You fight dirty, woman.” 

“I fight to win, man,” Marinette countered. “I. Want. My. Kitchen. We’re eating real food that I cooked in  _ our _ kitchen for our first night in our new apartment.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Luka agreed cheerfully, going over to Marinette’s alphabetized stack of boxes. “As long as the plan involves food and cuddles by the end of the night, I’m satisfied.” 

They got the kitchen unpacked (the important parts, anyway; Luka’s ancient coffee press that he refused to part with was buried in one of his boxes, but Marinette figured that was his problem for the morning) and made spaghetti together with sauce Marinette had prepared the night before. They sat down at their slightly battered but cozy second-hand table and clinked their mismatched wine glasses together. 

Then Marinette finally consented to make up the bed with their new things, which they did together, and even Luka had to admit the bedroom was cold. It had a sliding door onto their little balcony, and the blinds that hung across it did nothing to keep the cold from seeping through the glass. 

“Curtains,” Marinette murmured, parting the blinds a little to peek out as she inspected the window. “I’ll have to make some nice heavy curtains.” She paused, and leaned forward. “Look, Luka, it’s snowing!” Marinette drew back the blinds, pressing a hand to the glass to block out the light as she peered through. Luka flipped off the inside light so they could see better and came to join her, slipping his arms around her waist. 

“So it is,” he agreed, watching the little flakes swirl against the grey-black night. 

“You sound a lot less grumpy about it than usual,” Marinette teased, bumping back into him. 

“It’s easier to enjoy it when I’m not the one who has to worry about shoveling,” Luka chuckled. He let go of her waist and crossed his arms over her chest instead, smiling when her hands came up to curl around his arm as she leaned back into him. 

“Do you remember our first kiss in the snow?” he asked, nuzzling into her hair.

“I remember Juleka dumping a shovelful of snow onto our heads,” Marinette giggled.

“I remember you ruining hot chocolate forever,” Luka teased, nudging her with his nose. “To this day I can’t really enjoy hot chocolate unless it’s flavored with Marinette kisses.” He kissed her temple, and then her cheek, and then her neck. His hand found hers where it rested on his arm and squeezed it lightly, and he rubbed his thumb against the ring glittering on her finger. “Good thing I’ve secured myself a lifetime supply.” 

“You’re such a sap,” Marinette giggled. “You and your hot chocolate makeouts, honestly. I never manage to finish a cup now unless we’re in public.” 

Luka chuckled without any trace of shame. 

Marinette turned in his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck as they moved together into a slow, unhurried kiss, full of tenderness and memories, that quickly melted into a second, and then a third.

“Should I go make some hot chocolate?” Marinette murmured against his lips. 

“No need,” Luka said between kisses, pulling her closer. “This is the best part anyway.” 


	4. In the spirit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: In the spirit
> 
> My mom plays hallmark movies constantly when we’re all home for Christmas, because “they’re Christmasy and nobody can argue about them,” so this one is an homage to my mom. I might actually revisit it for tomorrow’s theme, we’ll see. 😂

_ Stupid _ , Marinette fumed as she climbed out of her car. Stupid Audrey and her stupid insane work schedule and her stupid  _ criticism _ , stupid Adrien and his stupid handsome face and his stupid perfect new girlfriend, and stupid  _ Maman _ sending her off to grandma’s like she was still a little kid—and stupid grandma, not even being here! 

And stupid  _ Rose _ , being all sweet and friendly and nice and showing her around town, being so  _ kind  _ and making it so Marinette couldn’t say no when Rose asked her to go pick out a Christmas tree for the library, because for some reason the little town library couldn’t possibly just use a fake tree like every other library in the world and  _ besides, Marinette, it’ll do you some good to get in the spirit! Slow down from that crazy city pace! _

She stalked up the stupid hill, looking around at the stupid—well, she couldn’t call it a forest because forest trees didn’t grow in straight lines. This wasn’t a forest, she reminded herself, it was a farm, a Christmas tree farm, and it looked huge to her city-slicker eyes. 

Well, she was here. Now what was she supposed to do?

“Does anybody actually work here?” Marinette muttered irritably, glaring up at the tree nearest her.

“Can I help you?” a dry voice asked from right behind her, and Marinette whirled to find a tall man with dark hair standing there. He tossed his head slightly, knocking his bangs back out of surprisingly blue eyes that quickly darted over her. When she said nothing, he cocked an eyebrow at her, sticking his thumbs in his pockets. 

“Oh,” she gasped. “Hi. My name’s M-M-Marinette? Um. I’m looking for a Christmas tree?”

“Well, you’re in the right place,” the man drawled, eyes flicking to the rows of trees beside him. “Any particular kind?”

“Uh…” Marinette blinked, not even knowing what her options were. 

The second eyebrow joined the first, and the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. Marinette felt a flush of embarrassment, and maybe something else. He’d be cute if he wasn’t laughing at her. He got his expression under control quickly though and suggested mildly, “Maybe a size?” 

“Oh,” Marinette thought back to the curtains in the library. They looked like 95 inches which meant the ceiling was probably 10 feet, and they’d need clearance for the topper... “Between eight and nine feet?” she guessed. 

The man gave her a customer service smile and tilted his head. “Follow me.” 

Marinette did, trying to keep up with his longer legs without twisting an ankle or tripping over a tree root. “You down from the city?” he asked casually as she trailed after him through the trees. 

“Yes,” Marinette replied distractedly. “Apparently I’m  _ stressed _ ,” she made a face. “So my mother told my Nonna Gina I’d watch her place while she’s out of the country. She thought it would do me some good to get away for awhile.” 

“Gina Dupain?” he asked, and Marinette blinked.

“Yes, you know her?” 

“Yeah, she’s friends with my mom. Quite a character,” he grinned, and stopped, turning to face her. “Funny, you don’t seem like her at all.” 

Marinette huffed and rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure whether that’s a compliment or not.” 

The man laughed, and she felt a little warm. It was a nice laugh. 

“Neither am I,” he chuckled. “Gina’s a character.” He gestured to the trees beside him. “All the ones on this row and the next are between eight and nine feet. Douglas on this end, blue spruce down there, and Frasier fir towards the back.” 

He was smiling for real when he looked back at her, and Marinette blinked. Something about that smile and the tilt of his head and way his hair fell—although it was all black instead of tipped with color the way it had been the last time she’d seen one of his posters— 

“Wait, you’re—” Marinette’s eyes swept over him again, in disbelief this time, over the plaid shirt visible under his open coat, down to the tattered, frayed cuffs of his clearly ancient jeans hanging over stained boots. Still, when her eyes found his face again, there was no doubt. “You’re Luke Stone!” 

His smile turned brittle. “It’s Luka Couffaine, actually. Luke Stone doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Luka!” a deep but clearly female voice bellowed from somewhere beyond the lines of trees.

“Be right there, Ma!” Luka shouted back. He looked back at her and smirked. “I’ll send someone to check on you in a few minutes. See you around, M-M-Marinette.”

Marinette blushed at the tease, pouting. “Jerk,” she muttered under her breath, putting her nose in the air with a little sniff. “As if I have time for all this Christmas stuff anyway. I’m just going to pick a stupid tree and go.” She turned and faced the row of trees with determination...and then slumped, her frustrated breath coming out in a cloud of white. “Stupid Rose,” she muttered to herself. “Stupid Christmas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _She’s an aspiring fashion designer with big dreams and a broken heart. He’s a burned out rock star that just wants something to believe in again. Together, they’ll discover the true meaning of Christmas._


	5. Decoration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Decoration
> 
> The Hallmark AU has taken hold...definitely expect to see more of this sprinkled through the month.

Imagine, Marinette thought as she helped Rose unpack the decorations and ornaments to go on the tree, Luke Stone in a town like this. 

Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t heard of him releasing anything new recently. So he was from this town, then? He must be on vacation, visiting his family and helping out at the farm. Taking a break, maybe writing some new songs. Funny, to think of the glammed up, heavily bedazzled rock star wearing flannel and working on a Christmas tree farm.

Marinette had winced the day before, watching him tear up his palms hauling the tree she’d picked out yesterday and tie it down deftly with fingers that had to be worth millions of dollars. It pained her to think of the hands that had created such beautiful music being abused in such a way. Surely he should have been wearing gloves, at least. He’d been so cold to her, though, that Marinette hadn’t dared suggest it or question him.

She’d been skeptical when Jagged Stone’s son had made his debut on tour alongside his father. She’d been a longtime fan of the older Stone and didn’t think even his own flesh and blood would be able to match him—but the younger Stone hadn’t tried. Luke’s music was clearly influenced by his father, but was also entirely his own, but so evocative, so emotional, she had been pulled in despite her reservations. She owned every one of Luke Stone’s albums, including the special edition greatest hits album, which she had bought even as she complained to Alya that he was too young in his career to be releasing a greatest hits album.

Marinette hadn’t said much to Rose about the encounter, not sure whether it was common knowledge amongst the town that he was here, and not wanting to infringe on his privacy if it wasn’t. Rose had given her a funny (disappointed?) look when she mentioned the grumpy young man that had helped her, but hadn’t said anything about it, just asked Marinette to come back today and give her a hand decorating the tree after the maintenance staff got it set up.

It wasn’t as if Marinette had much else to do, and Gina’s house felt huge and empty with just her in it, so she’d agreed, and here she was unpacking dusty boxes that had been hauled out of storage. She sighed as she surveyed the contents. The boxes looked like they’d been packed up by unsupervised five-year-olds last year. 

She was sorting the decorations into piles, still absently pondering the mystery of Luke Stone, when the library doors slid open, and the man himself walked in. He was dressed much the same as he had been yesterday, in layers that hid the muscular shoulders and arms he displayed on stage. Before Marinette could react, Rose flitted past her. 

“Luka!” Rose squealed, throwing herself at him. “You’re here!” Luka staggered slightly but wrapped one arm around her waist to catch her, holding her with her feet dangling off the ground as she kissed both his cheeks, her arms wrapped around his neck. Marinette stared, mouth hanging open slightly.

“That was enthusiastic,” Luka laughed, looking down at the petite blond hanging off of his tall frame. 

“I’m happy to see you!” Rose smiled brightly. 

“You just saw me at dinner last night.” Luka bent his knees and set her on the ground. Rose took the hint and let him go, but bounced on the balls of her feet. “And I told you I’d come, he added.”

“And now you’re here!” Rose threw out her arms. “I’m so glad! I have so much to do to get the childrens’ program ready and the decorations are so much for poor Marinette to manage by herself! Have you met Marinette?” she inquired, turning and holding out her arms to present her friend. Marinette closed her mouth and tried to smile as she gave a little wave. “I think you did,” Rose continued, turning to give him a warning look. “I think she said she ran into you at the farm.” 

Luka felt embarrassment creeping up his neck at Rose’s clearly scolding look. He nodded at Marinette. “Briefly, yeah. Nice to see you, Marinette.” He pronounced her name carefully, feeling bad about teasing her yesterday. She smiled a little more, and then looked down, her hands fluttering around the decorations she’d been separating. 

“You can get the lights on the tree while Marinette finishes working out that stuff,” Rose suggested, pointing to a pile of lights sitting near Marinette. “You’re nice and tall, so that should make things easy. There’s step stools in the kids’ area if you need them. Come here and I’ll show you what I want.” She hooked his arm and pulled him around to the far side of the tree. “The plug’s over here, so you’ll need to start on this side.” 

As soon as they were out of sight, Rose slapped his arm. “Dummy!” she scolded in a whisper. “I didn’t send her to the farm so you could be  _ mean _ .”

“I wasn’t mean,” Luka protested weakly, and then frowned. “What do you mean, you  _ sent  _ her?” He gave his not-quite-sister a suspicious look, and then leaned slightly to look around the tree and make sure they were out of earshot. 

He paused. Marinette had been cute yesterday in her puffy pink coat and earmuffs, but he hadn’t really had time to notice her. Now she looked trendy but comfortable in pigtails and a soft pink sweater over skinny jeans, her profile turned to him. She was an authentic kind of pretty, he reflected, but then Luka had found himself thinking that about a lot of people since he’d left the rock star world, where everybody wore layers of stage makeup, styled and coiffed and dressed so that every detail about them enhanced the image they wanted to project. 

Still, her full lips made a pretty bow, especially when she pouted them slightly in concentration, and her hair had a shine that came from health rather than product, and her eyes were—

Rose’s elbow in his ribs jolted him out of what must have been a pretty intense stare, and he flushed, leaning back slightly so he couldn’t see Marinette on the other side of the tree.

“She already thinks you’re mean,” Rose hissed. “Don’t be a creep on top of it.”

Luka winced. He didn’t need Rose’s reminder to feel guilty for behaving so abruptly yesterday. Already prickly from a morning of needling by his mother, he hadn’t been prepared for anyone to recognize him. No one had up until this point, and he’d thought he was safe. It was an unpleasant shock to have a stranger recognize him, especially someone from the city who might carry word of his presence here back to the press. His mother’s call had sounded like his guardian angel’s trumpet in that moment. When Juleka had called him to help tie her chosen tree on top of her car, he’d done the work quickly and silently, and avoided her gaze as much as possible. 

He’d felt bad about it later, when he’d had time to relax and reflect, but he hadn’t expected to see her again—certainly hadn’t expected to have Rose practically throwing her at him. He gave her a warning look. 

Rose opened her mouth but before she could say anything, Marinette popped around the side of the tree. “Rose, do you have some scissors anywhere?”

“Yes, in the cabinet behind the desk,” Rose said, pointing. “Probably on the top three shelves, there’s a box of craft supplies there. You might as well bring over the whole thing in case you need anything else. Let me know if it’s too high up and I’ll send Luka to grab them instead.”

“Got it,” Marinette smiled, and turned to follow Rose’s directions. 

Luka shot Rose a glare. “Quit it,” he warned. 

“Quit what?” Rose inquired, with a blink and head tilt that made her look like she didn’t have two brain cells to rub together. 

Luka knew better. 

“I don’t need any help, Rose,” Luka muttered, folding his arms. “I could find a relationship on my own if I wanted to.” 

“Mmhm,” Rose hummed in a disbelieving tone. “Because there’s so many to choose from here in this little town.” 

Luka rolled his eyes and didn’t reply. 

“I do like Marinette though,” Rose said, and smiled innocently when Luka gave her a look. “She’s really sweet. We only met a couple of days ago and here she is, bending over backward to get me a real tree and spending her time decorating it.”

“You set her up,” Luka accused, peeking around the tree briefly to make sure she wasn’t coming back yet. “You’re trying to set  _ me _ up.”

“She’s so creative,” Rose sighed. “She showed me some of her portfolio the other day, and it’s fantastic. She’s a fashion designer, you see.” 

Luka snorted. “Oh, yeah, she’ll totally fall for me. Without my stylist I’m a fashion disaster and you know it Rose.” 

“That just makes you a challenge,” Rose chirped, and then softened a little as she looked at him. “Look, I know you’re not looking right now, but that’s a stupid attitude to have when an amazing person just drops into your lap.” She tossed her head in a move he was sure she’d picked up from Juleka, though it was less effective without Juleka’s mane to accent it. “I should know. Anyway, do what you want, I just think she’s neat and I wanted you to meet her. I’ve got a good feeling about her. If I’d met her two years ago I’d totally steal her from you. If you’re smart, you’ll keep an open mind.” 

Luka sighed, but he saw a flicker of pink and when he glanced around the tree again, Marinette was back, the box of supplies at her side. She was lifting a large tinsel garland from the box she’d just opened, only to find it was all a tangled mass. There was a sort of mournful look on her face, a little droop of sadness, maybe even loneliness, to her shoulders. He remembered the tightness in her eyes and around her mouth yesterday, and the way she’d spilled out her reason for being here at the slightest nudge. A fashion designer—that was a cutthroat business, especially in the city. Poor thing was probably as tired and strung out as he’d been when he came home. 

He wasn’t even aware he’d sighed until Rose giggled at his elbow. “I think you can figure the lights out on your own,” she said with a little pat to his arm. “I’m going to get back to getting ready for the children’s program. You two just...have fun, okay? Make it festive!” She fluttered her hands at the tree, then waved at Marinette and abandoned him to the awkwardness. 

It didn’t take long to get the lights on the tree—Luka had plenty of practice after getting the farm set up for the season. He stood there for a moment, hesitating. He glanced at Marinette. She had finished the sorting and was back to struggling with the tangled garland, and the look of utter defeat on her face...hurt, somehow.

“Can I give you a hand?” Luka found himself offering. 

Marinette started slightly, and in an instant her shoulders went back and her smile flashed back into being. Luka was surprised to realize that it didn’t feel fake, despite the fact that he had seen her feelings on her face just a moment before. She was hiding those feelings now, but the smile she offered him was as sincere as the sadness. 

“Um, sure, if you want to,” she said, holding up the garland in two hands. “It’s pretty twisted up. We could just leave it, but...might as well give it a shot, right?” 

Luka took a handful of garland, and Marinette took another one farther down. They moved apart, spreading it out as far as it could go between them to try and see where it twisted back on itself. 

“This looks like the end,” Marinette muttered, plucking at a piece. “Can you just hold it up for a minute?”

Luka did, watching Marinette as she looped the end she’d found back over and under and through the glittering mass. The silence was awkward, and the more Luka tried to think of something to say, the more he felt like there was only one thing he could say. 

“Listen, I wanted to apologize—” he began as Marinette said, “Luka, I’m really sorry—” 

They both stopped, and laughed, and Luka gestured for her to go ahead. 

“I just,” Marinette pushed her hair back and glanced at him, then looked away. “I wanted to apologize for blurting that out about—you know—I should have thought, I should have realized you wouldn’t want to be approached like that, while you’re clearly not working—well, you were working, but not, not like that and I should have—well. I’m really sorry. You’re at home and you probably don’t want people gushing all over you while you’re trying to spend time with your family.”

Luka took a breath, looking at the floor for a moment. “I wanted to apologize too, for being so abrupt with you. I...hadn’t had the best morning, and you did startle me. I’m...well, I guess you could maybe say I’m retired, and I’d rather not be...known, here. I guess I kind of panicked.”

“Retired?” Marinette looked up at him in surprise. “But your music was so good! I mean—” She flushed, and grabbed the garland, moving to start draping it around the tree. “I really liked it, anyway. Sorry, I know it’s not my business...Anyway, I understand, and I won’t tell anyone I met you here.” The garland she was trying to place slipped off, and she sighed in frustration. “I swear Christmas hates me,” she muttered to herself.

Luka picked up the trailing end and held it so that the weight was no longer dragging. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.” 

“Of course,” Marinette smiled, and then she said, “How long have you and Rose been together?” This time the garland stayed where she placed it, with Luka feeding her more as she circled around the tree. 

“Together?” Luka repeated, startled. “We’re not together. She’s dating my sister, actually. In fact if they’re not engaged by New Years I’ll be shocked.” 

Marinette’s head whipped around to look at him. “O-oh. Oh! Oh, I understand now.” She flushed. “Just, before—”

“Yeah, I get it,” Luka grinned. “I can see how that would look if you didn’t know.” 

“Wow, how off base was I, though,” Marinette giggled. “So your family’s from around here? I—oh, that sounded nosy didn’t it, I’m sorry, I swear I’m just trying to make small talk.”

“I’m not offended,” Luka chuckled. “Actually my family just moved here a few years ago. When my mom bought the tree farm I thought it was just another one of her crazy whims and she’d move on to something else before long, but she seems really happy here. What about your grandma? Gina doesn’t seem like the small town type, either.”

The conversation flowed comfortably from there, as they finished the garland and moved on to the other decorations. Marinette didn’t ask him any more questions about his music, and he carefully steered clear of asking her any questions about why she’d come—or been sent—down to their little town, and faster than Luka could have expected, they were closing up the empty boxes and stacking them to the side to be returned to storage. Marinette had a good eye, Luka had to admit as he looked at the tree. Not surprising, he supposed, but it did look a lot nicer than the previous year’s tree. Not only that, Marinette had arranged the extra decorations on the library desk in a pretty little display, and with his help, had even trimmed the windows with some icicle lights they found at the bottom of one of the boxes. Luka knelt to plug in the last set of lights, and when they were on, the whole library screamed holiday cheer to an almost obnoxious degree.

As if his thoughts had summoned her, Rose appeared behind him. 

“Wow, look at this place, it’s awesome! Everything looks great! You two make a fantastic team!” She grinned at Luka, and he raised his eyebrows at her in warning. “Everything is so festive,” Rose went on, clearly ignoring him, as she laid a thoughtful finger to her lips and examined them, “except for you two. You’re ruining the mood.” 

Faster than Luka could track she whipped something out and stuck it to his forehead, then turned and did the same to Marinette. Only when he saw the bright blue gift bow stuck to Marinette’s forehead did he realize what Rose had just done to them, and he rolled his eyes as he reached up to touch the bow on his own forehead. Rose swatted his hand away and then grabbed his arm, hauling at him until he had no choice but to stand up or fall over.

“There, now you’re properly decorated too,” Rose beamed. “All right, you two have spent all morning helping me, so get out of here and go do something fun! It’s such a pretty day!”

“Rose, it’s freezing,” Luka tried to say, but Rose was already pushing them towards the door, and he gave into the inevitability of it all with a sigh. 

“Go down to the café, have lunch on my tab, both of you,” she ordered, dumping their coats in Luka’s arms before shoving them out of the door. “Thanks for all your help!” she called, waving at them as the doors slid closed.

“Real subtle,” Luka grumbled, reaching up to peel the bow off his forehead as he turned to face Marinette. That was a mistake, because the way her mouth was pursed in a little moue as she worked to remove her own bow was kind of adorable.

_ Damnit, Rose. _

  
  



	6. Superheroes in the Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Superheroes in the snow

Chat started it, because of course he did. 

Not everybody had the guts to bean Ladybug in the back of the head with a snowball, after all. 

Viperion supposed he could understand the impulse. Paris didn’t get snow very often, and this one was unusually heavy, almost three inches, and well...it was on brand for Chat. 

Even so, he stared in dumbfounded silence with the rest of the team as Ladybug’s eyes bugged out and her mouth opened in a silent scream when the cold snow hit the bare back of her neck. She stood shaking for an instant, eyes flicking around the circle of heroes gaping at her, and then her expression darkened and she slowly turned to face Chat—who suddenly seemed to realize the gravity of what he’d just done. He began to back up, holding his hands up defensively, as Ladybug stalked towards him. 

“Now let’s not do anything hasty, My Lady—” Chat began, but Ladybug lunged, and the cat turned and fled for his life across the rooftops. 

The rest of them stood like stupefied statues for another instant, and then exchanged looks and ran after the pair. None of them had been dismissed, after all, so it was either follow or stand around like dummies in the cold until Ladybug finished shoving Chat’s face into the snow and returned for them. 

Carapace was a little slower than the others, and as a consequence the snow Rena kicked up as she leapt off the ledge hit him in the face. “Hey!” he yelped, and Rena just laughed, mid-flip, as she got a look at him sputtering and scraping snow off his face, before she landed on the next roof. 

“Oh, it’s so on,” Carapace muttered as he scooped up some snow, made his own jump, and hurled his snowball at Rena as she was in midair towards the next roof. She knocked it aside with her flute, and it hit King Monkey instead, and well...it was all downhill from there. King Monkey whooped, and swung down on his staff to scoop up some snow, and Viperion really had no idea what happened next. Snow was flying everywhere. Pegasus, who had been beside Viperion as they jumped, went down on the roof with a yelp, and came up shaking snow off his braids, wearing an expression that suggested he was calculating trajectories as he squeezed a handful of snow into an overly precise ball. Another snowball whipped out of nowhere and Viperion threw himself into a backflip just in time to avoid it. He ducked and dodged, slightly bewildered by the bizarre turn the night’s meeting had taken as snowballs began flying over and between the rooftops. He wasn’t even sure what the sides were; It seemed like an “every man for himself” sort of situation. 

This was ridiculous. it was unprofessional. It was chaos, and he kind of loved it. He let out a whoop to echo King Monkey’s and scooped up a ball of snow, and the free-for-all continued, while all the while the group continued moving after the red suit running ahead of them all, clearly too intent on her quarry to scold.

Viperion hoped she was having as much fun as the rest of them. She could use a little stress release, and if washing Chat’s face with snow would give it to her, Viperion was willing to let Chat make that sacrifice.

Civilian heads were popping out of windows to gape at them, and more than one unfortunate Parisian got a face full of snow, either knocked from the roof above or dodged by one of the heroes. Viperion wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be horrified. Part of him delighted in the spectacle, and he was having more than a little fun himself, pitching snowballs with the precision of a sniper at whoever expected it the least in that moment. He hoped the Ladyblogger was out and getting some of this. He couldn’t wait to read about it tomorrow. 

Of course, he still took more than a few hits himself. He could feel cold water dripping down his neck from the ones that had clipped his face or burst in his hair. They didn’t really hurt, though, and he just laughed, making sure to get his revenge. 

They finally caught up with Ladybug, who was standing on a rooftop with a sheepish looking Chat wrapped in her yoyo string. 

“Man, I’m freezing,” Carapace complained, trying to scrape snow out of his hood. 

“And exhausted,” Rena agreed.

“Who’s dumb idea was this, anyway?” demanded King Monkey, who looked downright bedraggled. He had a good arm, but clearly hadn’t ever learned to dodge, and he’d paid for it.

“Hmm,” Ladybug drawled. “Can’t think who that would be. Oh wait. I remember. And I think some payback is due, right team?”

The semi-circle of cold, wet heroes were all looking at Chat. He swallowed as they all bent to scoop up handfuls of snow. “Now, wait a minute guys,” he began nervously, struggling uselessly against Ladybug’s yoyo string. “It was just for fun—I couldn’t resist—you didn’t all have to get involved! It’s not my fault!” His voice got higher and higher as the heroes cocked back their arms as one. 

“Ready,” Ladybug said calmly, looking at the tips of her glove as if she were examining her fingernails. “Aim.” 

“My Lady!” Chat protested, and she just grinned wickedly. 

“Fire.” 

An hour later, Luka popped up through Marinette’s trapdoor, wet and bedraggled but grinning broadly.

“What happened to you?” Marinette laughed, eyes twinkling where she was ensconced on her chaise under a thick blanket, a mug of hot chocolate in her hands. 

“Had a snowball fight with some friends on the way over,” he told her cheerfully. “Got room under there for me?” 

“My hair’s still wet from the shower,” Marinette warned him as he snuggled up with her and drew her head to his shoulder. Luka just chuckled, and picked out a chunk of melting ice stuck in one of her pigtails.

“Movie?” he suggested innocently when she looked up at him, her mouth open and a blush on her cheeks. 

He held her gaze for a moment, then flicked the bit of ice away and stole a sip from her mug, grinning into the cup when her elbow dug into his ribs. 

“Jerk,” she muttered, but she was smiling as she reached for her laptop.


	7. Togetherness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Togetherness
> 
> Rambly domestic fluff. For backstory on Bach the deaf dog you can read [Puppy Eyes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26227006) and [Puppy Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27946637), but it's not really necessary to understand this.

Luka shut the door and leaned back against it, blowing out a sigh. “Well,” he commented, turning his head to look at his wife. “That was a lot.”

“It sure was,” Marinette groaned, letting go of Bach’s collar. He didn’t usually dart out the door, but she hadn’t wanted to take chances of him getting confused or caught up in the exodus and getting away. “Between your mother and my father, my ears are going to be ringing for days.” She patted Bach. “You’re the lucky one today if you ask me,” she told the dog.

“It was nice to have everybody together,” Luka tried, rubbing the back of his neck, and then winced. “For the first hour or so, anyway.” 

“No, you’re right, it was nice,” Marinette sighed, flopping down on the couch. Bach leapt up beside her immediately and squirmed over onto his back, his fluffy white coat sticking out in all directions. Marinette absently rubbed his belly. “And they did all the cleaning before they left, so that really helped. Even if they kind of put everything in the wrong place.” 

Luka pushed himself up off of the door and followed her, nudging (well, shoving really, because the big dog was hard to nudge) Bach out of the way so he could thump down beside her. Bach hopped down obligingly, and then shoved his head in Luka’s lap. Luka scratched Bach’s ears. “Do you think there’s such a thing as too much togetherness?” he asked wryly. 

“Definitely.” Marinette dropped her head on his shoulder. “I don’t even think it was so much that we spent too much time together, it’s that we were trying to be  _ together _ with so many people. It’s not quite the same as when you get to spend time with a few people, you know? I...I don’t know, I wouldn’t have wanted to leave anyone out, but at the same time, I feel like we get more out of just having a regular dinner with your family or mine, rather than trying to cram everyone in at once. Is that weird?”

“Nah,” Luka sighed. “I’ve always found the big family gatherings exhausting, to be honest. Too much to deal with, and you never get to finish a conversation with anyone because someone just  _ has  _ to say something to them. If you’re weird for thinking it, I guess I’m weird too.” He grinned. “But your grandma and my mom in the same room are something else, aren’t they?”

“They got on like a house on fire,” Marinette giggled. “I’m just glad they didn’t set  _ our _ house on fire.” 

“Mmm.” Luka reached for her, and Marinette gladly slid closer, snuggling up against him as he slipped his arms around her waist. Marinette took his place petting Bach. “Still, for the first Couffaine-Dupain-Cheng joint holiday, it went pretty well.” 

“It did,” Marinette admitted. “It was a lot of work, but then Maman and Papa brought so many things with them, and that soup Juleka made was fantastic, that it wasn’t so bad as it could have been.”

“You didn’t have to insist on making the cake yourself,” Luka said, pinching her side. “You know Tom would have been happy to make it.” 

“I wanted to,” Marinette pouted, slapping his chest lightly in retaliation. 

“Just wait until next year,” Luka chuckled, resting his head against the back of the couch. “It’ll get even more crazy when we have to add the Lavilants in.”

“What?” Marinette shot upright, but Luka only opened one eye and grinned lazily at her. “Luka! What do you know?”

“I don’t  _ know _ anything,” Luka hedged, the grin growing a little. “Let’s just say I have  _ suspicions _ .” 

“You better not be keeping secrets from me,” Marinette warned, eyes narrowing. 

“If I did,” Luka smiled, closing his eyes again. “It would be for Juleka. But I’m not, because I don’t  _ know.  _ But Jules kept staring at our rings, and she was practically turning green on the spot. And she disappeared for like an hour, and if she wasn’t on the phone the whole time I’ll eat my guitar. I just...think it won’t be long, that’s all.” 

“Hmm.” Marinette considered that, and then sighed and burrowed closer into his side, tucking her arms between them for warmth. It had been warm in the house all day with all the people and the heat from cooking, but without the crowd, she felt a little chilled. “We’re going to need another folding table,” she murmured drowsily. 

Luka laughed. “You really want to host again next year after all that?” 

“Well,  _ they  _ won’t be settled long enough to do it,” Marinette pointed out. “And it  _ was _ nice, even if it was a lot. If nothing else, it was good to have our families interacting together and getting to know each other a little better. They’re all so friendly, I don’t think it was  _ too  _ awkward.” She made a face. “Besides, then  _ they  _ can be the ones everybody’s cooing over about how  _ newlywed _ they act.”

“Mm, we’ll see,” Luka said, still smiling, and stroked her hair. “Who knows, we might have our own complications by then.” 

Marinette narrowed her eyes at him. “We said two years  _ minimum _ , Luka.” 

“I know,” Luka shrugged. “There’s other complications that could come up. Or, you know, things happen, or we might change our minds, or who knows what else... I’m just saying, no need to start planning now, right?” He kissed the top of her head. “Can’t we just enjoy being done for one night before you start figuring out the next one?”

“Fiiiine,” Marinette sighed, but she was smiling, warm and comfortable now that she was tucked against him, with Bach sitting on her feet. 

“We should go to bed,” Luka suggested drowsily, and Marinette hummed agreement, but neither one of them moved.

“This is good enough,” Marinette mumbled after a moment.

“You’re not gonna think so in the morning,” Luka grumbled back, but she was already going slack against him. He’d get her up in a minute, he thought. Just...one more minute. 

Luka’s mouth had just fallen open in the beginning of a snore when a loud jangle made them both jump awake and twist toward the door. There was Bach, pawing the strip of bells hanging from the doorknob to tell them he needed to go out. The deaf dog had no idea how loud the bells were or what a scare he’d just given his adoptive parents. He just knew that if he pawed at them someone would come let him out. He gave a doggy grin and wagged, dancing in place slightly as he saw they were looking at him. 

Marinette and Luka exchanged a look, and then each freed a hand to curl into a fist. Luka groaned when Marinette’s rock crushed his scissors and pushed himself up off the couch.

“You sure you don’t want to come with?” he asked as he picked up the leash, and Bach’s excited wiggle went into overdrive. “Take a nice late night walk together?”

“No thanks,” Marinette laughed. “I think I’ve had enough togetherness today. You two have fun.” She grinned as she wiggled her fingers in a smug little wave. “I’ll get the bed warm for you.”

Luka sighed as he pulled on his coat and opened the door. “I’m so putting my cold feet on you when I get home,” he grumbled. 


	8. Uncertainty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Uncertainty
> 
> More hallmark movie AU! Check Chapters 4 and 5 for the first parts.

Marinette had a lot of experience with embarrassment, and she was well aware that no matter how much she wished it, the odds of the earth opening beneath her and swallowing her up were pretty slim. In fact, at this point in her life she was pretty sure that if it ever did happen, it would be while things were going perfectly fine, just to spite her. 

So as she stood on the sidewalk outside of the library, peeling a sticky bow off her forehead (and probably a perfectly square section of her foundation with it, which she was sure would look just  _ great _ ), trying not to look at the very attractive rock star (former rock star?) beside her, she was annoyed but not surprised that the ground remained solid under her feet. 

“Well,” Luka sighed, “I guess since Rose is paying...can I take you to lunch?”

“I, um—” Marinette began, and then shivered, grabbing her arms as the wind suddenly cut through her. 

“Here,” Luka said, and Marinette finally looked at him. He was holding her coat open for her, waiting. He was already wearing his. “Marinette?” he asked when she didn’t move immediately, and Marinette jumped.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, hastily jamming her arms into the coat. It was harder than it should have been, since she still had the big stick-on bow in her hand, and her internal screaming grew louder as Luka continued to hold the coat patiently until she finally got her hand through the cuff. She jammed the bow in her pocket as she turned towards him with a grateful, if embarrassed, smile as she began buttoning the coat. “Um, thank you, but I’m sure you have things to do, and, well Rose didn’t exactly give you notice there, so if you need to, um, go, I understand.”

Luka gave her a slow smile. “Well, since one of the things I have to do is eat lunch, I’m not going to turn down a slice of Sally’s pie on Rose’s dime. And since she kind of played us both here, I think she owes you one too. Unless you don’t like pie?” 

“I love pie,” Marinette blurted, and had to stop her hand from flying to cover her mouth. 

“Well, okay then. Let’s get some pie.” Luka gestured, and Marinette found herself walking alongside him. “Maybe some soup, too. Sally’s tomato bisque is  _ amazing _ when it’s cold outside.” 

Marinette made a noise that she hoped sounded like agreement. What on earth was she doing? Didn’t this make it look like she  _ wanted _ to go on a date with him? What if he thought Rose was acting on Marinette’s behalf?

A touch on her arm jolted her out of her spiral. “Are you all right?” Luka asked gently, slowing down his walk. “Look, I know Rose is...a lot. I didn’t mean to enable her pushiness, so if you’re not comfortable—”

“No!” Marinette exclaimed quickly, and then sighed. “Well...yes, a little. Not she’s a lot a little, but I’m a little. Uncomfortable, I mean. N-not that you did anything, or...um…” She clamped her teeth together and fought the urge to scream.

“It’s just that this is a little awkward, because Rose has all the subtlety of a brick to the head and now we’re both trying to pretend that we don’t know we were set up?” Luka smiled, and Marinette actually laughed a little bit despite the vivid blush she was sure was spreading over her face.

“Yeah, kinda,” she admitted, hunching her shoulders. 

Luka shrugged. “Well, we could bail on lunch, walk away and pretend none of this ever happened, and hope that we never see each other again. Buuuuut this is a pretty small town, and avoiding people here is hard, so the chances of recurring awkward are high.” 

“Good point.” Marinette winced. “Um...what are our other options?”

“Well, I’m personally a big fan of just embracing the awkward.” Luka gave her a lopsided smile that looked nothing like his posters. “So I propose that we go have lunch, no pressure and no expectations, ask all the questions we’ve been dancing around until now, and see if we can’t just power through the awkward and come out friends—or at least acquaintances that can greet each other on the street without combusting from embarrassment.”

Marinette laughed. “That...that actually sounds like a plan.” 

Luka’s lopsided smile turned into a grin, and in that moment she could see a flash of the rock star she remembered. 

It was a short walk to the café (it was a short walk just about anywhere on Main Street, really), and before she had quite recovered from that grin, Luka was holding the door open for her and waving her through. 

“Hi, Sally,” he said as he followed her into the café. “Where should we sit?”

“Anywhere you like, hon, just don’t take up the big tables,” Sally replied absently, preoccupied with something behind the counter. “Your usual?”

“Am I so predictable?” he sighed, leading Marinette to a small booth near the windows. 

“You are when it’s this cold out,” Sally laughed, looking up, and noticed his companion for the first time. “Nice to see you again Marinette! Do you need the menu?”

“I’ll have what Luka’s having, actually,” Marinette said, blushing a little as she slid into the seat across from Luka. “Now that he’s talked it up I have to try it.” 

“Sure thing, hon. Tea instead of coffee for you though?”

“Yes please,” Marinette replied quickly, shrugging out of her coat. She raised a self-conscious hand and touched the spot on her forehead where the bow had been, glancing at her reflection in the window. 

“Rose’s treating today, so make it the big bowl please,” Luka called, and got a good natured wave from Sally to indicate she’d heard him. He turned his attention back to Marinette, and she tried not to squirm.

“So,” Luka said, slipping out of his coat and stuffing it into the corner beside him. “Do you want to start?” 

“Why did you retire?” Marinette blurted, and covered her mouth. 

Luka winced. “Wow, right out of the gate.”

“I’m sorry,” Marinette backpedaled frantically. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“No, it was a fair question,” Luka sighed, sitting back and tapping his fingers lightly on the table as he thought. Marinette bit her lip, feeling terrible for asking, but also really wanting to know. 

“Sometimes you take a chance, and things don’t work out,” he said finally. “But...sometimes they do work out, and then you find out it wasn’t actually what you wanted in the first place. I love the music, I thought I loved performing, but that whole lifestyle just...didn’t work for me.” 

Marinette wasn’t sure what to say to that, and was grateful that Sally arrived just at that moment with her tea and Luka’s coffee.

“Okay, my turn,” Luka said, leaning his elbows on the table. “Why are you here? In this town, I mean. No offense, but you kind of stick out.”

Marinette made a face. “The real reason? My mother thought I was on the verge of some kind of breakdown, so she conspired with my grandmother to guilt me into taking a vacation. As if all my problems aren’t still going to be there when I go home.” She glanced up at him, gathered her courage, and said, “Why are _ you _ here?”

“My family is here,” he said, pushing the salt shaker around on the table absently. He leaned back as Sally came to slide two bowls of soup on the table. Luka thanked her, and then looked back at Marinette. He gave that lopsided grin again at the slight pout she was aiming at him, and gave in. “So it was the logical place to come when I decided I needed to figure out what I really wanted out of life.”

Marinette raised her eyebrows. “And did you?”

Luka shrugged. “It’s a process, but...yeah, I think I’m on the right track.” He raised his eyebrows back at her. “So what was stressing you out so bad at home?”

“My boss,” Marinette groaned, as they both picked up their spoons. “There’s so much she can do for me in the industry but she’s so  _ rude _ and mean. The words  _ constructive criticism  _ seem to have no meaning for her. It’s like she expects me to read her mind and fix things without any guidance. Why did she hire me, if she hates everything I do so much?” Marinette stirred her soup listlessly, and then finally tried some. She smiled at Luka. “This  _ is _ good.” His mouth was full but he aimed a wink at her in lieu of an  _ I told you so. _ “So why a Christmas tree farm?” she asked.

Luka shrugged. “I don’t even really know myself. When my mom bought it I thought it was just another one of her crazy whims, and that she’d sell it again before the next season even came around. But, turns out she likes the farm, and she likes the town, and she runs a kayak rental during the summer that keeps her adventuring spirit satisfied. I still expect her to up and leave with practically no notice someday, but for now she seems happy. Make sure you try the toast on the side, by the way, it’s amazing.” He tilted his head slightly. “Why does Christmas hate you?”

Marinette had to take a moment for that one, taking her time with her next spoonful of soup. Luka didn’t press her, just went on eating his own. “I’ve never had much luck with Christmas,” she muttered, and then felt like he deserved more of an answer than that. “Not every Christmas, some were fine, but some were...just times when I found out that people weren’t the friends I thought they were. Then last Christmas...” She hesitated, feeling foolish. “My boyfriend dumped me,” she said finally, and then blushed. “It sounds really stupid and pathetic when I say it out loud, and it’s not like he did it  _ on _ Christmas or anything like that, but...” She shook her head.

“But now it’s Christmas again and you’re having a hard time separating the season from the memories?” Luka suggested. Marinette nodded. 

“My ex, he’s...kind of famous,” she admitted, “And now he’s back in the news because he’s got a new girlfriend, and there’s rumors there’s going to be an engagement announcement soon, and we work in the same industry so we’re still part of some of the same circles, and...yeah.” She shrugged and looked down, eyes suddenly stinging. “It just kind of feels like Christmas isn’t on my side this year either.”

“Hey,” Luka said, reaching across the table to catch her hand and squeeze it. Marinette looked up at him, startled, and he smiled. “What kind of pie do you want?” 

His hand was rough, but warm from where it had been wrapped around his coffee, and for a moment she could only stare at him.  _ He has kind eyes _ , she thought. 

She hadn’t seen that on his posters, either.

“Blueberry,” she managed to say, and it wasn’t as hard to smile back at him as she thought it would be. 


	9. Tradition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Tradition
> 
> More Hallmark AU! I'm changing the order of the prompts here because the idea I had for "moments of wonder" doesn't work until we're a bit farther along in the relationship. I'm thinking I might need to put this thing in its own work, but I'm not sure if I should go ahead and do that now, or wait until the prompt month is complete and then pull those chapters out into their own work. 
> 
> A little background for my non-USA friends, there's a TV channel here called the Hallmark Channel, and they do a lot of made for TV movies. They're mostly "family-friendly" romances (no cursing, no sex, no violence, the occasional very chaste makeout but no tongue-kissing, and usually a Christian slant to them although that's more obvious in some than others). There's a particular type that they do around Christmas time (they play them 24-7, actually) that often involves a woman or family who's jaded about Christmas until they come to this small town and get caught up in very mild shenanigans involving either Santa or Christmas tree farms. They're usually sappy and formulaic and there's never anyone famous in them except grown-up child stars from 80's and 90's sitcoms. You either love them, or hate them, or hate that you love them (and I'm not judging anyone for which category they fall into). You can find clips on youtube if you're really curious (they might even stream some? I don't know). Anyway, my mom loves to put on Hallmark movie marathons as background noise during family holidays, because there's never anything objectionable in them that might traumatize the children, and they don't cause fights like the news channels do. Yet I couldn't give you the title of a single one of them or describe their plots in any specificity. They're just not very memorable, but somehow I find them impossible not to watch when they're on. It's *maddening*.

Marinette understood why her mother thought this trip would do her good, but the truth was that she felt at loose ends rattling around in Gina’s old-fashioned but large house, all alone. At home, there was always somewhere to pitch in, something that needed doing. Gina kept her life pretty streamlined, and when she was home, she delighted in fixing up anything that might be out of sorts in her home. Gina was just too efficient, so other than keeping her plants alive, which really wasn’t that difficult since Gina kept mostly hardy breeds that could survive being left under the care of a neighbor for weeks at a time, there just wasn’t much for Marinette to do. 

Finally Marinette planted herself on the couch, set the TV to a channel covering the most recent fashion shows, and sat down to sketch. She’d have a lot of work to catch up on when she got home, so she might as well take advantage of some of this quiet time to get ahead. 

She sketched a few basic silhouettes to warm up and get the juices flowing, but after that...nothing came. Every time she started a line, she quickly rubbed about it again.  _ Stop editing yourself _ , she scolded.  _ Just get it out, and you can fix it later.  _

It didn’t work. Everything she did felt wrong. Audrey’s complaints echoed in her mind.  _ Too derivative, too pedestrian, where’s the  _ **_art_ ** _ , Marinette? That’s why I hired you, and all you ever give me is this trash! Did I make a mistake bringing you on? _

Did Audrey make a mistake? Marinette put down her sketchbook and pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them as she dropped her face against her legs, fighting down the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. She swallowed hard and tried to breathe. 

Okay. So she couldn’t draw right now. That was okay. She’d do...something else.

She got up, leaving her sketchbook on the couch and the television on, and went into the kitchen. She started pulling out ingredients without conscious thought, the spiral in her mind continuing until she actually stood in front of the mixer, measuring cups in hand. 

Marinette took a deep breath. She began measuring out ingredients, repeating the recipes in her head as she worked. This, at least, was something she could do. Nobody got all twisted up over  _ cookies _ , after all. 

Well. Except Audrey  _ are you trying to destroy my figure you’re FIRED  _ Bourgeois. Marinette pushed that thought aside. Rose would appreciate cookies, she was sure. Gina’s neighbors would too. Maybe even Sally...would it be insulting to take some to Sally? She tried to remember if she’d seen cookies for sale in the café, and finally gave up. She’d just make some, and figure out who could eat them later. 

This was something she could do, and nobody could say she didn’t do it well, and that...that  _ mattered _ to her right now. She could feel herself relaxing into the process, and she began to consider what she could make. Gina’s supplies weren’t as extensive as Tom’s, but there were still plenty of options to choose from…

Her first batch was in the oven, and she was making some simple Russian teacakes for a breather, when Gina’s old-fashioned doorbell rang. 

Frowning, Marinette grabbed a towel from the oven and went to the door, wiping at least one hand as clean as she could get it before she opened it.

If she’d expected anything, it was a package delivery, or maybe even a neighbor stopping by with some cookies of their own—this seemed like the kind of place where that stuff happened. 

On the doorstep stood a grey-haired woman with a bright smile, glasses that made her blue eyes look huge, feet well apart, and her hands solidly on her hips. Behind her stood Luka Couffaine, his lips pressed together in exasperation, propping up a large Christmas tree. He gave her a tight smile when her eyes flicked over him, but the woman in front of him had a presence that was impossible to ignore. 

“Um,” Marinette said, smiling uncertainly. “Can I help you?” 

The woman stuck out her hand. “Hello, lass. Marinette, isn’t it? Anarka Couffaine! Yer grandma be a friend of mine. When I heard you were keeping house for her while she’s away I thought we’d best be bringing over her tree!”

“Her tree?” Marinette asked, mystified. She glanced at Luka, and couldn’t help a smile when he mouthed  _ I am so sorry _ at her over his...mother? Surely she must be his mother. Only a parent could put that look of embarrassed frustration on a grown man. 

“Aye, Gina always gets a tree from us,” Anarka was saying. “Thought she wouldn’t be needing one this year since she’s gone. Hated to think of her not having one when she gets back, but it makes sense, no one here to take care of it and all. But since you’re here, all’s well. You can decorate it and have it ready for Gina when she comes home. She’s still planning t’be back for Christmas Day, aye?”

“Uh, yes,” Marinette said, reaching up to tug a pigtail and remembering just in time that she’d pinned up her hair, and that her hands were still dusted with flour despite the wiping. “She and my parents and all were supposed to meet back here for Christmas Eve, so I guess—but I don’t know if—”

“Ah, that’s what I thought,” Anarka burst out cheerfully. “She’ll definitely be wanting her tree, then. No worries, lass, we know where everything is. We won’t be in your way but for a moment.” 

She didn’t push past Marinette, but it was clear she intended to move forward, and Marinette backed out of the doorway on instinct.

Luka gave her a  _ kill me now _ look as he hoisted the tree and followed his mother. Marinette giggled in spite of herself, and closed the door behind them. 

True to her word, Anarka knew exactly where to find Gina’s Christmas tree things, and ordered her son around with a brusqueness that left no room for argument or debate. Marinette hovered, a bit at a loss for what to do. She wondered if she should go change into clean clothes, but Anarka said they weren’t staying long, and she still wasn’t done in the kitchen—

The oven timer chimed, and she automatically turned to tend to it. She hesitated in the door to the kitchen for just a moment, but Luka was half under the tree, getting it adjusted in the stand while Anarka barked orders. Neither was paying any attention to her, and even if she wasn’t cooking for anyone in particular, she couldn’t stand to let perfectly good cookies burn for no good reason. 

She’d just gotten everything settled when Anarka’s booming voice behind her made her jump. “I’ve got to run, lass, but Luka can finish getting things set up. I’ve already told him what to do and where to put everything. We left the box of decorations out for ye, so ye can get things all nice for when Gina comes home. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again, so, goodbye for now. Don’t forget to check the water in the tree every day!” 

Marinette didn’t even have time to answer before Anarka was seeing herself out. 

As soon as the door banged closed behind Anarka, Luka made a beeline for the kitchen. Hands against the doorframe, he leaned in. “Hey.”

Marinette turned to look at him from where she stood rolling some kind of round cookie in powdered sugar. “I swear I tried to talk her out of it,” he told her, ears burning. “I’d have had more success wrestling a bear.” 

Marinette laughed, blushing, and Luka couldn’t help his grin. She looked adorable, with her hair pinned up and her sleeves pushed up to her elbows, flour streaking the red and green, frilled apron she wore. “I can imagine,” she replied, placing the sugar-coated ball carefully on a pile of others already in a dish on the counter. “She seems like someone it’s hard to say no to.” 

Luka shrugged. “That’s my mom.” They looked at each other for a moment, Luka thinking about what a sweet picture she made and her thinking—probably that he was completely weird, standing here staring at her. “Anyway,” he said hastily, pushing himself back upright, “I’ll get this finished up and get out of your hair. I just wanted to say I’m really sorry and I had nothing to do with this...whatever this is.”

Marinette giggled. “It’s fine.” Her shoulders came down a little, and Luka gave her one more grin before he went back to setting up the tree. He was starting, he reflected ruefully, to have some dangerous  _ if only _ thoughts. If only they’d met sooner, if only she weren’t leaving in a couple of weeks...

If only the people in his life weren’t so damn pushy, so that he wasn’t sure how much of the attraction he felt was sincere or mutual. If only he could be sure he wasn’t seeing things because Rose put the idea in his head. 

Luka wasn’t sure what had put his mother on the scent. It was, just barely, possible that her motives were exactly what she said they were. Gina did buy a tree from them every year, and since they were friends it was usually more of a visit than a delivery, and Anarka had more than once hauled Luka out to help set the thing up when he was home. 

Luka doubted it though. Either Rose had blabbed, or someone else had. Sally, maybe, who might have seen him holding her hand at the café, or maybe one of the townspeople who had seen them say goodbye outside afterwards, smiling and friendly. Marinette blushed so easily, and he did find her extremely pretty. it might have been easy for someone to get the wrong idea. 

The television was on, but Luka hadn’t paid any attention to it until Marinette’s name caught his ear. He looked up, and saw a good-looking blonde man on screen, waving to the crowd before he turned to help a lady out of the limo he’d just exited. There was a smaller picture of Marinette on the arm of the same handsome blond in the corner. 

Luka put it together with what Marinette had told him at the café, and pressed his lips together, irrationally angry at the man.  _ Clearly he has a type _ , Luka thought sourly, looking at the new woman on his arm as the couple proceeded down the red carpet. Luka glanced back at the kitchen, and then walked over and turned the television off. Marinette didn’t seem like she was watching it, and she certainly didn’t need to see something like that by accident. 

He finished up, making sure to clean up after himself as best he could, stacking the boxes that had held Gina’s things neatly where his mother had found them. Conveniently there was a broom in the same closet, so he was able to sweep up the needles he’d inevitably tracked all over the house. 

He put the broom back, and went back to find Marinette. Whatever she was making smelled amazing. Luka paused in the kitchen doorway. Marinette was concentrating hard, piping icing onto cookies laid out in front of her. Even focused as she was, he couldn’t help but note that she looked more content than he’d ever seen her, smiling and at peace, humming softly to herself. She leaned back to study what she’d done, and the humming turned to singing. 

Luka took a quick step back and turned, putting his back to the wall next to the door, one hand going to clutch at his heart as it suddenly decided to gallop away. 

She was singing one of  _ his  _ songs. 

_ So she’s a fan _ , he scolded himself.  _ I knew that _ . And why should he care? By the end, Luke Stone had been almost an entirely separate entity from himself. An illusion created to sell music, not a real person. 

Except Luke Stone still played Luka Couffaine’s music. And it was one thing to know Luke Stone had fans, to see them screaming in a crowd or throwing themselves at the security ropes to get to him, but...it was entirely different to hear sweet, sincere Marinette, thoughtlessly humming Luka’s songs just because she was happy and she enjoyed them. It was what he’d always wanted, wasn’t it? To know that people appreciated the music, and not just the image. It was no wonder his pulse was racing. 

Luka sighed and closed his eyes.  _ I’m in trouble _ , he admitted to himself. 


	10. Sunset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sunset
> 
> Continued from the last chapter.

Luka took his time getting back to the farm. When he got there, he didn’t go inside. Just went out and did whatever chores he could find. He didn’t go back to the house until the sun was setting, and even then, he didn’t go inside. He just stood on the porch, leaning against one pillar. His hand found his pocket and pulled out a cookie wrapped in cellophane. Luka unwrapped it slowly, tucking the wrap in his pocket, but he just looked at it for a minute, and then up at the sunset colors streaking the sky. 

“Are you gonna eat that?” 

Luka jumped and looked over. Juleka leaned against the opposite rail of the porch, eyeing him in her sidelong, indirect way. 

“Are you going to eat that cookie?” she repeated, with a little toss of her hair. “Or just stare at it all night? Because if you don’t want it—”

Luka made a motion as if to throw the cookie into the bushes, and Juleka yelped, lunging at him. “Hey!” 

Luka laughed as he dodged Juleka’s grab again, holding the cookie over his head. It wasn’t quite as easy as it had been when they were younger, as Juleka had grown quite tall, but she still couldn’t match his reach. 

“Jerk,” Juleka pouted, kicking his shin. 

“Shrew,” Luka snorted, hopping back a little. 

“Fine,” Juleka huffed, folding her arms as she turned her back to him and folded her arms. “Be stingy  _ and  _ wasteful. See if I care.”

“Hey, Jules?” Luka said, settling back against the porch railing and looking again at the cookie in his hand. It was shaped like a mitten, with a cute snowflake design drawn in icing on it. Marinette had given it to him when he finally managed to pull himself together enough to let her know he was leaving. Her work was a little smudged from being wrapped up before it had set, but it was still a pretty thing. 

“What?” Juleka demanded, when he didn’t continue. 

Luka sighed, and resigned himself to the awkwardness of asking his little sister for advice. “How did you know Rose was someone you couldn’t live without?” 

Juleka tilted her head slightly and narrowed her eyes at him. “Is this about that girl?” she asked. “The one Rose was so excited about? Should I tell her ship is sailing?” 

Luka groaned. “Please don’t. I shudder to think of what she might do if she thought it actually had a chance of happening. Not that it does,” he added hastily, looking away. “She’ll be going back to the city after Christmas, and that’ll be that. I already know I can’t live like that.” 

“Do you really know that?” Juleka mumbled, her eyes sliding away from him. This sort of conversation always made her uncomfortable, and Luka felt bad about it, but he needed someone to talk to. “Or...do you just know that you can’t—that you don’t like the rockstar lifestyle?” 

Luka tried to hide his grimace at her near slip. It shouldn’t hurt, the idea that she’d almost said  _ can’t handle it _ , because it was the truth and it was mostly something he’d accepted, but...failure didn’t feel good. Even when failure actually meant succeeding too well. 

“I mean,” Juleka continued, brushing her hair back and brushing nonexistent dust off the black puffy coat she was wearing over her purple velvet dress. “There’s ways to live in the city and work off your music without being in the spotlight all the time. It’s not...impossible. If you wanted to.” 

Luka made a noncommittal noise, looking down at the cookie for a moment before looking back to the sunset. For a while they were silent, watching the colors flare and brighten and then begin to fade. 

“It was like something I didn’t know was missing,” Juleka said all in a rush, startling Luka out of his thoughts. “Maybe that sounds cheesy, but...it’s the truth. Meeting her was like...some part of myself settling into place, and it was kind of like...oh. There you are.” She shrugged, and as the glow of the porch light seemed to grow brighter as the outer world got darker, he could see that she was blushing. She glanced at him and then away. “If you make fun of me I’m stealing your cookie  _ and _ shoving you off the porch.” 

Luka chuckled. “No, I won’t. I’m happy for you, Juleka, really. I just...I don’t know. I barely even know her…” 

Juleka shrugged. “You see people.” 

He looked at her in surprise. Juleka hunched in on herself, half disappearing into her coat. “You do,” she mumbled. “You always have. Maybe you forgot, being out there,” she gestured vaguely. “But you’ve always been like that. And...if you think there’s something special about her, you’re probably right.” She shrugged. “Plus Rose likes her a lot.” 

“I don’t know,” Luka sighed. 

Juleka shrugged. “You don’t have to know. Just...see what happens. There’s still time. Go with the flow and quit worrying about it so much. Who knows, maybe she doesn’t even like you.” 

Luka rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”

She eyed him. “Can I have the cookie now?”

“Not a chance,” Luka said, taking a big bite of the cookie. His eyes widened as he looked at it. “Wow, that’s amazing.” 

Juleka groaned. “You suck,” she muttered, turning to go back inside. “I hope you freeze.” 


	11. In your heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "In your heart"
> 
> I missed yesterday, but I have some thoughts for it and I’ll definitely be going back to fill it in when I have time. Meanwhile, this wasn’t where I intended to go with today’s prompt but after several tries somehow we ended up here anyway, so here’s a bit of a flashback to how Mari got herself in this situation in the first place!

It was a dream come true. Working for the Queen of Style, under her direct supervision, as the head designer for the launch of Audrey’s own line? It was the type of opportunity Marinette had dreamed of having ten or twenty years down the line. Sure, Audrey would be the face of the brand, but it was also Audrey taking on all the risk. Audrey secured the funding, Audrey launched the company, Audrey lent her fame and publicity to bring it into the public eye. Marinette was  _ privileged _ . Even established designers would have given their left arm for an opportunity like that, and Marinette was a  _ nobody _ . 

It was brilliant at first. Marinette made mistakes, of course. There were garments that were questioned, there were pieces that the critics felt didn’t live up to their full potential. But all in all, Audrey’s first line had been a resounding success, and Marinette was able to keep the criticism in perspective, and resolved to improve the next time.

Unfortunately Audrey, who was far more accustomed to dishing out criticism than receiving it, didn’t seem to be able to do that. She’d insisted on more involvement in the next line, demanding to approve Marinette’s designs before they went forward. That wasn’t... _ so  _ bad. The feedback was good, she told herself. It meant a little less freedom, but it was unprecedented to get the kind of creative license she’d had in the beginning. It was understandable if Audrey wanted to pull back a bit now that she’d seen where Marinette would make mistakes. She’d be less nervous once this collection did even better than the last. 

It didn’t, though. It wasn’t panned, but neither was it praised. Commercial was one of the kindest things they called it. Critics used words like, uninspired. Mediocre.  _ Safe _ . 

And now a furious Audrey was questioning why she had ever put her name and reputation in Marinette’s hands. When Marinette reassured, Audrey threatened. When Marinette spoke of  _ next time _ , Audrey snarled. And when Marinette wept, Audrey accused her of not being tough enough to survive in the fashion industry. 

Marinette stopped making excuses, swallowed her tears, and did the only thing she knew to do. She went back to work. 

She sat on the floor of her office and sorted listlessly through the fabric samples strewn around her. This time Audrey had given her the mood board and the color palette, which Marinette wouldn’t have minded except it was so... _ boring _ . Limited. All the designs Audrey had approved were in her own graphic style, and Marinette didn’t dare point out that their woman, the hypothetical woman their line was meant to be targeted towards, was definitely  _ not _ Audrey.  The designs Marinette submitted came back covered with red lines; the junior designers working under her, already jealous that they were working under someone with no more experience than they had, were beginning to whisper and snark behind her back, jockeying for position in the hopes of climbing the ladder if—some said when—Audrey finally fired her for good.

Marinette couldn’t think of that, though. She couldn’t listen to the rumors. She just needed to do better this time. She needed to keep her mind on the job and on what she was being asked to do. She just needed to think. 

Only she couldn’t think, as she stared at the wads of insipid non-colors on the floor in front of her. It felt like her soul wanted to depart her body from the sheer wrongness of it all. In her heart of hearts, Marinette knew this direction was doomed. She needed reds and corals and pinks, set off with something neutral, yes, but soft, not these harsh contrasts. It was a hard time and people would resonate with clothes that spoke hope and freedom and organic change, not hard lines and washed out colors and things that spoke boundaries and authoritarianism and despair.

She shook her head vigorously and ran the fingers of both hands through her loose hair, tugging lightly. “Just  _ think _ ,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Work, brain! Stop being so dramatic. Stop thinking about the things you can’t do and find some possibilities. I have to do this.”

There was a buzzing from somewhere in the piles of fabric, and Marinette shuffled quickly through them until she finally found her phone. 

“Hi Maman,” she said, trying to keep her voice cheerful. “What’s up?” 


	12. Smells of the season

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Smells of the season
> 
> Speaking of smells, I would just like to say I do appreciate the irony of this after I wrote Marinette getting so upset about Luka smelling like evergreen. Just to reiterate I have no problem with anyone deciding that Luka smells like evergreen, it was just narratively convenient (I do always write him with the sunscreen smell, but begrudge no one else their own hc).

Marinette set a box of carefully decorated (with the icing completely set this time) cookies in the passenger seat, and then got in her grandmother’s classic car and started it up with a slight sigh of trepidation. Gina wasn’t really the type to get attached to  _ things _ , so she wasn’t precisely worried about hurting the car, but it still made her nervous. She didn’t own a car herself and she didn’t drive often, but the Couffaine’s tree farm was far enough away that she needed the car. 

She’d been driving it the first time she went, too, when she’d met Luka. 

Maybe the car wasn’t the only reason she was nervous, she admitted to herself as she pulled out of the drive. She didn’t want him to think she was pursuing him, not like Rose clearly wanted, but Marinette felt bad about all the uncharitable thoughts she’d had about him when they first met. Sure, he’d been short with her, but...now that she knew him a little better, he was sweet and funny and kind, and no matter how weird things got he always seemed willing to laugh it off and make her feel comfortable again. 

So maybe this was a little bit peace offering, and a little bit of an excuse to see him again, and a little bit craving for more of that comfortable feeling.

Or maybe it was just that she didn’t have that many people to give cookies to. It didn’t have to be that deep, did it? Luka was a friend. Right? They were friends after they had lunch together, weren’t they? So it wasn’t weird to bring him cookies and she didn’t have to think so hard about it. It seemed like a small town thing to do anyway, people probably did it all the time. Besides, he was probably busy. She could just leave the cookies and maybe say hi and then leave. 

The trees were planted in staggered rows on a hill that sloped up to the farmhouse at the top, with a small parking area at the bottom of the hill. Marinette had expected to go up the hill to the house, but as she approached she saw Luka in the parking lot, helping a customer heave a tree on top of their van, so she pulled in there instead. Marinette grabbed her box of cookies and got out of the car, but Luka was still getting the tree tied down. She decided to wait until he was finished before trying to get his attention, and leaned against the car, inhaling the scents of evergreen and fresh snow.  _ Way better than a candle _ , she thought.  _ Colder though _ . 

Luka was smiling and joking with the thin man he was helping, who held the hand of a little girl with pigtails. His hands were bare again, she noted with a frown. Wasn’t he cold? Even so, he looked relaxed and content, and Marinette felt a stab of both envy and confusion. She was glad he was happy, of course, but she didn’t understand how he could give up his dream and still look so satisfied with life all the time. The only times she’d seen him tense or unhappy was when she brought up his old life. 

She watched him shake hands with the man and then he turned towards her with a grin. Stupidly, Marinette felt a flush climbing her cheeks. Ugh, her stupid face was so embarrassing. It was just a  _ smile _ , for pity’s sake. 

Still, she felt antsy as she gave him a little wave. 

“Nice to see you,” Luka chuckled. “Don’t tell me you need  _ another  _ tree.” 

Marinette laughed. “No, I just came to see you.” She barely kept herself from clapping a hand over her mouth as Luka’s eyes widened slightly and a faint color touched  _ his  _ cheeks. “I mean, I wanted to bring you these,” Marinette said quickly, handing him the box of cookies. “I didn’t think it was really fair that you had to smell them the whole time you were there and yet you only got the one, especially after, you know, you came all the way out there and did all that work and—”  _ Stop babbling! _ she mentally shrieked. “Here you go.” 

Luka grinned, accepting the box. “You didn’t need to, but I haven’t stopped thinking about the one you gave me since I ate it, so I’ll take them.” He popped the box open and grabbed one, taking a bite. “So good,” he mumbled as Marinette giggled. “Best ever.” He stuck the cookie between his teeth to close the box and then took another bite. “Don’t tell Sally though. She still has the best coffee in town and I don’t want her mad at me.”

“I’m glad you like them,” Marinette replied, trying to contain her grin. It felt good to do something right. “Well, you’re working, so I don’t want to keep you.” Then, because she couldn’t help herself, she added, “Shouldn’t you be wearing gloves? Isn’t it hard on your hands without them?” 

Luka shrugged. “I have trouble finding gloves that fit. Big hands.” He held one up and wiggled his long fingers, “And I’m picky about the way they feel. Drives me crazy to have gloves that don’t fit exactly right.” 

“But your music,” Marinette protested, and then felt that familiar but unwelcome rush of awkward embarrassment. “I mean. I know you stopped with the music, so maybe it doesn’t matter that much, but I just...wish you’d take better care of yourself,” she finished lamely, once again wishing to sink into the ground. 

Luka regarded her for a moment. “I never said I stopped,” he said at last. 

Marinette blinked. “S-sorry?” 

“I didn’t stop making music,” Luka clarified. “I can’t. It’s just...part of me I guess. I don’t think I could quit if I wanted to. I never did want to quit, though, just do it differently.” He seemed to hesitate, looking for words. “There’s a difference between sharing and selling,” Luka said finally. “And at some point it became all about the selling and...I just can’t live like that. I want people to hear my music; I want to get paid for it. But...not like that. Not like I’m part of some manufacturing machine, where they take what I make and turn it into something  _ marketable _ . Am I making sense?” 

“Not really,” Marinette admitted. That was what she wanted, after all. To get her clothes out there and on people. As far as she was concerned, Luka had given up the dream she was working for, and try as she might...she couldn’t understand how he could give all that up.

Luka sighed, clearly disappointed, and looked away. Marinette fidgeted, feeling like she had failed some kind of test. 

“Tell you what,” Luka said, after staring up the hill towards the house for a long moment, “Why don’t you join us for dinner tomorrow night? Mom’s going out for the night, and Rose is coming over, so she and Juleka will go off and do their own thing after dinner. I’d like to show you something that might help you understand.” 

“Oh,” Marinette’s face heated. “It’s not really necessary...I wouldn’t want to impose for such a silly reason…”

Luka shrugged. “I’m cooking so the only person you’d be imposing on is me, and obviously I think your company’s worth it or I wouldn’t be asking. No pressure, though, if you’d rather not. It’s just...if you really want to know why I quit, I think it would help if you came.” 

Did she want to know? Why did she care so much? She should say no. It was really none of her business. Marinette opened her mouth, but paused. For a moment she wavered, and then gave him a slightly forced smile. “Well…sure. That’s kind of you. Thank you.” She hesitated again, already half regretting it. “You don’t...you don’t have to explain it to me, though. It doesn’t matter if I understand, as long as you do.” 

“I know,” Luka said, and his warm smile was unexpectedly soft. “I’d like for you to understand, though. So...I’ll see you tomorrow? Around seven?” He popped the last bit of cookie in his mouth and then reached down to open the car door for her.

“Okay, sure,” Marinette said, and her smile was a little less forced. “I’ll see you then.” 


	13. Rush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super sorry for disappearing there, but unfortunately my five year old fell very ill and we had to spend a few days in the hospital. She's better now and pretty much back to normal, but it was a crazy, exhausting, emotionally draining few days and threw everything completely out of whack, so I'm playing catchup in almost every way right now. We're starting to get back into the groove of things, but. Yeah. Definitely going to have to modify some of my plans. 
> 
> SO I was supposed to be several more sections into the hallmark AU, but rather than kill myself trying to finish the stuff that was half finished when I had to drop everything, I decided just to jump back into the prompts and the hallmark stuff will happen when it happens. 
> 
> Appropriately, today's prompt is "Rush."
> 
> I'm relating pretty hard to Marinette in this one since I am also a maker and have spent the last few days frantically trying to finish the things I had planned to make for family members before Christmas.

Marinette cursed herself for an idiot for the fiftieth time, darting a quick glance up at her schedule and then to the clock before focusing back on the fabric she was moving through her sewing machine. 

She knew, she  _ knew _ that it was stupid to make gifts for all her friends. She  _ knew  _ that the smart thing to do would be to pick two or three people each year for handmade gifts, and just buy presents for the rest, but somehow she could never help herself. There were always so many ideas swirling in her head and when she thought of something just so perfect for someone, she could never convince herself  _ not  _ to make it—even when she knew it was too much, even when she knew it wouldn’t be appreciated the way she wanted it to be, even when she knew it was going to cost more than she really ought to be spending at the moment…

And so here she was again, a few days before Christmas, cancelling plans so that she could stay home and get things done. Her calendar was carefully marked and color coded. She’d had to finish Adrien’s present over a week ago, since his schedule meant she wouldn’t see him again before Christmas. She had made plans to meet up with Alya on Christmas Eve, so she had until then to finish hers, but Nino was leaving with his family for vacation tomorrow, so she had to finish his gift tonight. The Couffaines actually had their annual Christmas party the day  _ after _ Christmas, so she had a little extra time for theirs, and while she had missed the deadline she had been aiming at for Rose’s gift, she could deliver at the Couffaines’ party, she was sure. She still had a little bit to do on her parents’ gifts but she could spend extra time working on those Christmas Eve, and— 

A familiar hand landed—not on her shoulder, as usual, but on her hands, keeping them in place so that when she jumped and screeched, she didn’t get her fingers in the way of the machine’s needle. 

“Hi,” Luka said near her ear, and she could hear the smile. “Sorry. I knocked, and I called, but—” He drew his hands back, squeezing her shoulders lightly before he stepped back so she could turn around. He tossed his hair out of his eyes and smiled down at her. “Guess you were busy.” 

“You could say that,” Marinette tried to laugh, looking around at the mess that was her room. Oh no, she hadn’t left his present out anywhere had she? She gasped and jumped up. “Don’t look!”

She needn’t have panicked. Luka’s gift, already finished, was folded neatly in a box labeled  _ Saturday _ , exactly where she’d left it. Marinette breathed a sigh of relief and replaced the lid, tucking it a little farther under her chaise. 

She turned back to see Luka standing where she’d left him, with his hands over his eyes. “Okay, you can look now,” she said, feeling stupid that she’d panicked for nothing.

Luka split his fingers and peeked at her through them. “You sure?” he grinned.

“Yes,” Marinette huffed, getting up off the floor and brushing loose strands of hair back from her face. She probably looked a mess. Her pigtails were coming out from all the tugging on them she’d been doing, what makeup she was wearing was probably smudged, and— 

And Luka had dropped his hands and was still looking at her the way Luka always did. “You look busy,” was all he said, and Marinette’s face flooded with heat. 

“Yeah,” she admitted in a small voice. “I maybe bit off more than I could chew this year. Again. B-but it’s fine, you know,” she tried to smile. “I’ll get it done. Um, so what did you—I mean, I’m happy to see you but did you need something, or…?” 

“I just wanted to see you,” Luka shrugged, and Marinette’s blush darkened even though he showed no sign of embarrassment at all. “I was sorry you couldn’t come to practice.” He waved a hand to encompass the whirlwind of projects in her room. “I can see why you did, though. It looks like you have a lot to do. I hate to see you so stressed out about it, though.” Luka stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Marinette tried to smile. “I’m sorry I had to bail, it’s just…” 

“Marinette,” Luka said gently, and Marinette lowered her head slightly in shame. She waited for the the gentle scolding, the lecture on taking care of herself, the admonishment to slow down and relax and take things one step at a time and  _ enjoy _ the season and— 

“What can I do?”

Marinette’s eyes shot up to his and she blinked disbelievingly. He looked the almost the same; calm, slightly amused, but now he also looked expectant, eyes slightly raised as his fingertips lingered on her elbows.

“S-sorry?” she stammered, still staring at him.

“What can I do to help? I’m all yours, just tell me what you need. I can wrap or run errands or whatever helps.” He grinned. “I can even sew a little bit if it’s not too complicated. I’m slow but I can make it look neat.” 

Marinette stared at him for one moment more, and then threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she mumbled into his chest, trying not to cry. 

Luka had grabbed her upper arms reflexively when she pitched forward, but now he relaxed and moved his hands around to her back, patting gently. “Of course, Marinette. I was honestly just hoping to spend some time with you, but if I can help you get some of this done so you can relax a bit, that’s even better.”

Marinette hummed acknowledgement into his shirt and squeezed him a little tighter. “You’re the best,” she sighed. 

His fingers flexed on her back, but he didn’t say anything, just leaned into her slightly.

She still had a lot to do, but Marinette held on to the hug a little longer. Some things, after all, just shouldn’t be rushed. 


	14. Moments of Wonder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Moments of wonder 
> 
> Hallmark AU continuation!

“Spaghetti?” Rose screeched. “Luka, nobody looks good eating spaghetti. She’ll be uncomfortable. Make something else.”

Luka looked at the ceiling for a moment and prayed for patience. “It’s not like this is a date,” he muttered, going to look through the pantry to see what else he could make. Rose’s pestering was making him nervous, and his hand hovered over several options before he shook himself and picked up a bag of rice. Casserole seemed like such a homely option but—

 _Not a date_ , he reminded himself resolutely. He didn’t want to make Marinette uncomfortable. She hadn’t agreed to a date, so it wasn’t one, and he wasn’t going to let Rose’s fantasizing make him treat it like one. 

“Casserole?” Rose said doubtfully when he got out the pan. 

Luka groaned. “Out, Rose.” He grabbed the kitchen towel hanging on the oven rail and snapped it at her, making her squeak and jump back. She folded her arms with a pout. “Nope. Not gonna work on me,” he told her, flapping her out of the kitchen with the towel like a fly. “Get lost.” 

“I’m just trying to help,” Rose wailed as she backed away. 

“And stay out,” Luka told her shortly, and turned to go back in the kitchen. He leaned on the counter and sighed. He was a patient guy, and he liked Rose, and okay so she was right that he and Marinette would hit it off, but— _enough_ , already. He was nervous enough about whether she would understand what he wanted to show her tonight, and not really sure why it was important to him anyway. 

Maybe it was lingering guilt for disappearing without any real explanation or apology to his fans. Maybe if he could make even one fan understand, he’d feel better. 

_Orrrr maybe it has nothing to do with your fans and you just want Marinette to understand,_ Rose’s voice sing-songed in his head, _because you liiiiiike her._ Luka sighed. 

He did like her. He liked her, and he wanted to know her, and the only way he knew of to do that was to invite her to know him. He sighed again, and went back to his dinner preparations.

Marinette knocked on the Couffaines’ door with so many butterflies in her stomach that she wasn’t at all sure she was going to be able to eat. It had been easy to accept the invitation with Luka there in front of her, with his relaxed smile and calm presence, but by the time she got back to her grandmother’s house, her brain had gone into a panicked spiral of overthinking that had her feeling jumpy and on edge. She always put thought into her appearance, but she’d _agonized_ over it tonight, afraid of looking too... _date-like_. In the end she’d kept her pigtails and kept her makeup light, and worn a slightly oversized cream sweater over red leggings. Easy, seasonally appropriate, not unflattering but not aiming to attract, either. 

When the door flew open, Rose’s excited, beaming face did nothing to ease her nerves. As Rose dragged her inside, bouncing a little, Marinette had an unsettling feeling like she had been caught in a trap of some kind, and it didn’t get any better when Rose introduced her to Luka’s sister. Juleka gave her a quick once over and smirked, and Marinette was struck by an urge to flee the premises. 

Then Luka was there, taking her elbow gently and somehow getting everyone moving to the table. He wasn’t dressed for a date either, wearing a slightly worn navy pullover with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows and jeans that had seen better days. The look he gave her as he escorted her to the dining room said _please ignore them, we both know better_ , and Marinette began to relax a little bit. That’s right. Rose might be scheming but she and Luka had already talked it out, and they knew where they stood. They were friends, and whatever he wanted to show her tonight had nothing to do with...with _wooing_ her, or whatever Rose seemed to think was going on.

Dinner wasn’t fancy, either, and that made her feel better too. She managed to strike up a conversation with Juleka after Luka pointed out that many of the photographs on the walls were Juleka’s work. He turned all of Rose’s attempts to get them started on personal topics into casual conversation, and Marinette honestly could have kissed him just for making everything so... _easy._

Not that she would. Not that he wanted her to. Not that she wanted to! Oh no, she was starting again…

Marinette nearly jumped out of her seat when a peppy tune blared out seemingly from nowhere. Luka put a steadying hand on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile while Rose pulled her phone out of her pocket, frowning. 

“Excuse me a second,” Rose said apologetically, “It’s work so I better see what they want.” 

Marinette had to blink for a moment. She’d forgotten that normal people didn’t take phone calls during dinner.

“Sabrina, what’s up?” Rose chirped, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin as she held the phone to her ear and slipped out of her chair to walk into the other side of the room—not that it really made a difference since they could all still hear her. “Well, finally, what took so long? So, what’s the big deal?” There was a pause, and Rose frowned. “Come down there? Why are you being so dramatic, Sabrina, can’t you just tell me?” 

That got Luka’s attention. He shot Rose an alarmed look, and Rose rolled her eyes at him. “Okay, fine. I’m on my way.” She hung up the phone and came back over to kiss Juleka’s cheek. “I have to go. There’s something up with the costumes for the children’s pageant and Sabrina’s making a big deal about it. I’ll come back after I find out what’s going on.” She grinned at Luka and Marinette. “Have fun without me.” She fluttered her hand and left the table, blowing a kiss to them all as she flounced out of the door.

Luka gaped after her for a moment. No, no, this was no good. Rose’s excited fluttering aside, she and Juleka were supposed to go do their own thing and get so distracted with each other that he could talk to Marinette in peace, but without Rose—Luka glanced at his sister, and saw her smirking at him. Luka tried to convey with nothing but his eyes that if she ruined this for him he’d never forgive her. Juleka just rolled her eyes and went back to eating. 

“Children’s pageant?” Marinette was repeating next to him in confusion. “At the library? I thought that was usually a church thing.” 

“Oh, it is,” Juleka smirked. “The church has one every year too, and Rose...Rose has a beef with it. Let’s just say they’ve had the same Joseph and Mary for the last three years and Rose doesn’t feel like it represents the _proper Christmas spirit_.” 

“Oh,” Marinette said, blinking. “Huh.” 

“Are you finished, Juleka?” Luka asked a little too quickly, standing up. “I can take your plate.” 

Juleka gave him a look that said she knew what he was doing, but she got up too. “Yeah. Thanks. It was nice to meet you Marinette.” She went to the stairs, but couldn’t resist a parting “You two have fun,” before she thunked up them.

Luka sighed, and took Juleka’s plate and his own to the kitchen. He nearly bumped into Marinette when he turned around, standing behind him with her own mostly-empty plate. “Oh, sorry,” he said, taking it from her automatically. “I didn’t mean to rush you, if you weren’t done.” 

“No, I’m good,” Marinette said, with a nervous little flutter of her hands. “I was done. Can I help you clean up?”

“Nah, Jules can get it later,” he said, opening the cabinet to dump the last of the food in the trash before he put the plate in the sink. “I cooked, so dishes are her job. Let me just put the leftovers in the fridge. Why don’t you come on into the great room while I do that?” 

He led her out of the kitchen into the two-story great room, with its huge windows and exposed beams and the large crackling fireplace. 

“Wow, this is lovely,” Marinette breathed, looking around.

“I like it,” Luka shrugged with a self-conscious smile. “Great acoustics in here, actually. Just have a seat wherever you’re comfortable and I’ll be right back. Watch your step, we’re...not exactly neat freaks, if you know what I mean.” 

“It looks lived in,” Marinette agreed diplomatically. The furniture was all mismatched and...unique. Some of it looked so old and rickety that she wasn’t sure it was safe to sit on, and there were... _boxes_ everywhere. Not really boxes, but old army footlockers, heavy-looking chests, and a dozen other things. They were mostly tucked in the corners of the room, leaving the floor clear for the enormous Christmas tree that took up an entire corner of the huge room. 

Marinette made her way to one of the couches as Luka went back to the kitchen. It looked like an antique, with an old brocade fabric that was slightly faded but otherwise in good condition, and sturdy enough. Marinette perched on the end of it, feeling a little awkward. She looked around the room. Despite the size, it was cozy, with a rustic air, much like all the other buildings she’d been in around town, and though she’d been being polite, her statement was accurate. It didn’t look so much cluttered as lived-in, as if this room was used a lot by the entire family. As she looked at the Christmas tree, she had to smile. The decorations were a bit...eccentric. Several of the ornaments on the tree were little bats wearing tiny knitted scarves or carrying miniature instruments that looked like they might have come from a doll collection. Music seemed to feature prominently in the tree, she realized. Many of the figures had instruments, not just the bats (there were spiders, too, she saw with amusement). Some of the ornaments were cheap, clearly mass manufactured things, but others were carefully crafted and looked like they’d come from far away places. Guitars weren’t the only instruments featured, but they did outnumber the others by quite a bit. Luka wasn’t the only musical one in the family, she concluded. His father was Jagged Stone, after all, and boy there was probably a story there, but she’d never dare ask. 

Her eyes widened slightly when Luka reappeared with an electric guitar in one hand. Marinette blushed, one hand fluttering up to fuss nervously with her hair. Surely he wasn’t going to play now? For her? 

Luka smirked a little at the expression on her face, and winked at her as he set the guitar down in a stand she hadn’t noticed. “In a minute,” he told her, and Marinette wanted to sink into the couch and disappear. Could she act more like a starstruck fan? Luka crossed to a funny looking cabinet that turned out to have a CD player inside. “You know _Blue Lightning_ , right?

“Yes, of course,” Marinette said, blinking. It was one of the singles off his most recent album—his _last_ album, she realized with a pang. 

Luka nodded as he put the CD he’d been holding in the player. “This was the demo I pitched to the label when I wrote it.” 

He pressed play, and turned the volume up. He walked over to one of the windows and stuck his hands in his pockets as the music began to play.

Marinette’s mouth dropped open. It sounded so... _different_ . Of course a demo would sound different, she’d heard demo tracks before and they didn’t necessarily have full instrumentation or backup vocals, but...the whole feel of the song was different. Peppier, more fluid, less... _angry_. Still a rock song, but not so...gritty, or harsh, as the version she knew. 

Luka kept his eyes down as he switched off the CD player and closed the cabinet, and then went to sit next to Marinette on the couch. Only then did he look up at her.

“The execs said they loved it,” he told her softly, “but it didn’t fit my brand. They didn’t think it would sell. Later, they told me. When I was a bigger star, then I could put out something like that, but not yet.”

“That’s—” _a shame_ , Marinette wanted to say, but instead she twined her fingers together and looked down. “Well, I guess they know what sells, right? It makes sense that you would take their advice.”

“That’s what I thought.” Luka nodded. “So I agreed to change it. And then in post production they ‘tweaked it’ some more, and…” He grimaced. “And then I had to go up on stage and perform it like that, and even though it made sense at the time, I just...hated it. When I complained, they told me I wasn’t bringing in enough sales yet to be such a diva and that if I wanted to make the music I wanted to make, then I needed to work harder.”

“It’s hard, isn’t it,” Marinette sighed. “But you have to make your bones, right? It’s the same with fashion. That’s just...part of the industry.” She glanced at him uncertainly.

“So they told me,” Luka gave her a wry smile. 

Marinette looked back at her hands. “Well, if it was making you unhappy, then it’s good that you left,” she said, but she said it without conviction, and she knew that he could hear it. 

Luka sighed. “Well. There was more to it than just that.” He got to his feet. “You’ve been to one of my shows, right? I think you said you had.” He picked up the guitar from the stand, and slung the strap across his shoulders. 

Marinette nodded. “Mmhmm.” She watched as he rummaged behind one of the chairs, pulled out an amp cord, and plugged it into the guitar.

“Good,” Luka said, sitting down across from her in one of the rickety-looking chairs. Marinette’s hands moved involuntarily before fluttering back into her lap. He lived here; surely he knew the hazards of the furniture. She curled her fingers under and tried not to fidget. He grinned without looking at her as he tuned the guitar.

“It’ll hold,” he said, as if he’d read her mind. “I promise nothing around here is as fragile as it looks.” 

“Right,” Marinette said, hunching her shoulders slightly. “Of course.” She didn’t know where to look, and she suddenly felt very stupid. Why was she here again?

“Just relax,” Luka’s deep voice soothed, and she glanced up, color deepening. He sounded like Luke Stone in that moment, with the smooth, musical tone of his voice. “Just listen. If you don’t understand when I’m done, then...then that’ll be okay. But I’d like to try and show you what I mean. The difference between Luke Stone, and...me.” 

He took a breath, blew it out slowly...and played. Marinette’s breath caught. It was just _White Christmas_ , which she’d heard a thousand times over in a hundred different styles. Even so, it was beautiful, embellished with unique touches that face it the same evocative quality that had first drawn her to Luke’s—to _Luka’s_ music. 

Apparently he was just warming up, though, because he took another deep breath, and the music segued into a different tune—one she didn’t recognize. 

It resonated somewhere deep inside her, touched a well of pain she’d been trying to ignore for months. Not only the music, which by itself was beautiful and seemed to vibrate in her soul—but the _artistry._ And when she looked at him— 

Luka’s eyes were half closed, and his face was serene, with just a slight wrinkle of concentration between his brows. His hands, rough and abused as they were, moved easily and gracefully, with a confidence that Marinette suddenly realized was familiar. She’d had that once, back when she’d been young and inexperienced and thought too highly of herself. Before she’d learned better, and seen how far she still had to go. 

She found that she envied Luka in that moment. It must be nice, to be away from all that pressure and just..create for yourself again. Not to be constantly questioning your instincts, because you only had yourself to please anyway. 

Her chest suddenly felt tight, and her eyes stung. She swallowed hard and tore her eyes away from him, looking down at her hands. She closed her eyes and put her hand on her heart, determined to listen until the end. 

It was so beautiful. Poignant. 

She recognized now what he’d been trying to show her with the demo track. She had been too distracted at the time by the other differences, but...there had been so much more feeling in the demo version. Because Luka had loved it, she realized. He’d been excited about that song, and by the time the studio was done with it, that enthusiasm was lost. He played the studio version well, with all the technical skill he possessed, but it lacked the passion of the original. If anything, it sounded angry because _Luka_ was angry when he played it.

_That’s part of the process, though. It’s just part of the industry. Editing is important, even if it isn’t fun. Of course you’re tired of a project before it’s finished. You’ve still got to see it through. You don’t just quit or give up on a project because you feel pouty that people told you what was wrong._

It was the truth, so...why did watching Luka, and hearing him play, make it feel like such a lie?

 _The studio was wrong,_ she admitted to herself. Even if it was an objectively better song when they were done, even if the sales numbers said they were right...what they lost along the way was so much more precious than perfection. 

Luka’s song ended softly, but on a questioning note, without really concluding. He looked up at her, and then came over to sit next to her on the couch, his expression concerned. 

She wasn’t sure why until Luka reached out, and wiped away the tear trickling down her face with the rough pad of his thumb. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“Yeah, I’m—” Marinette began, trying to smile, but she couldn’t finish. Her face crumpled and she buried in her hands before she began to cry in earnest. 

Luka put the guitar down, and came to sit beside her. His hands curled around her shoulders and tugged her to him. Marinette yielded, letting him pull her close. One arm wrapped around her back and one big hand gently cradled her head, guiding it down to his shoulder, and he held her, swaying gently, while she hid her face in his shirt and wept. 

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Luka said apologetically, and Marinette shook her head without lifting it. He held her for a long moment, until she finally managed to pull herself together and pull away from him, sitting up and wiping at her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” she muttered, embarrassed. “I’m _so_ sorry, I was enjoying it so much, I can’t believe I just... _lost_ it like that, ugh.” 

“It’s okay,” Luka soothed, putting his hand on her shoulder. He squeezed and rubbed it lightly. “Do you feel better?” 

“I...think I do, actually,” Marinette gave him a quick smile. “Thank you.” She was still embarrassed, but she meant it. It felt like a pressure valve had opened somewhere inside of her, and while nothing had really changed, it all felt just a little bit less oppressive. “I think I understand, at least a little. Why you left. But…” Marinette pressed her lips together, like she wasn’t sure she wanted to go on. Luka squeezed her shoulder again lightly, waiting for her to continue.

“I just...was quitting really the only way? Wasn’t it your dream? Wasn’t it worth fighting for?”

Luka swallowed and drew his hand back. He folded his hands together between his knees, looking at the floor, and hoped he could say what he wanted to without sounding like a pretentious drama queen or a weakling. 

“What happened between us just now,” Luka began slowly, “Luke Stone could never do that. I didn’t mind the work, or the hours, or even the touring. It’s just, the more we ‘refined’ Luke Stone’s image, the less it felt like me, and it put up this...wall between me and the rest of the world. It wasn’t just the label interfering with my music, it was the image they wanted me to project. The _brand_ . It was harder and harder to be somebody different off-stage, because after a certain point, there’s really no such thing as off-stage. Jagged, you know, he can turn it on and off like that.” He snapped his fingers. “He tried to help me, he really did, but...I just...wasn’t connecting with people the way I needed to, for the music to really flow. I felt so alone, and unhappy, and I was still making music but it wasn’t _mine_ , anymore. It was just something I did to keep the label happy. Finally I decided that clinging to the dream for the sake of the dream wasn’t very smart if it didn’t actually make me happy, and it was more important to be _me_ than to be a star.” Luka glanced up. Marinette was staring at him, her eyes huge in her pale face. He felt himself beginning to blush and dropped his eyes again. “So I told Dad I was done,” he went on quickly. “He was disappointed, but he understood. I finished out my contract and came home to figure out what in the world comes next.” 

Marinette was silent for a moment. Luka swallowed nervously, and was trying to think of a graceful way to end the conversation when she finally said, “You’re really brave, Luka.”

He blinked, the words he’d been about to force out dying on his tongue. “What?” he said instead.

“I think it takes a lot of courage to admit that,” Marinette said quietly. “Even to yourself, let alone actually making the break and leaving it all behind. I’m glad you did it. I loved your music, but…” She reached out hesitantly, and slid her hand over Luka’s. He released his clasped hands to turn his fingers up to lace with hers. “I’m glad that you did what was right for you, instead of…”

“Flaming out and becoming an alcoholic drug addict?” he asked with a sardonic grin. Her hand was so _small_ in his, he couldn’t help noticing. 

Marinette giggled. “Something like that. I’m sorry if I made you feel bad. You really didn’t have to rehash all of that for me.” 

Luka shrugged and repeated, “I wanted you to understand.” She had no idea how bad he wanted her to understand. He was grateful and relieved that she did...and at the same time, it was a little frightening. Things might have been simpler if she had scoffed and blown him off. Then he wouldn’t be sitting here, holding her hand and looking into her soft, beautiful eyes, feeling like all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. 

Marinette bit her lip, and his gaze dropped to it. “I should...if it’s okay with you, I think I should go home now.” 

Luka shook himself back to reality. “Of course. Are you sure you’re alright? Will you be okay to get home?”

Marinette nodded and tried a smile. It mostly looked steady, so Luka smiled back. He stood up, still holding her hand, and drew her up after him. “Thanks for taking the time to listen to me, Marinette.” Luka let her hand slide out of his. “It actually feels good to be able to explain it to someone.” 

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” Marinette told him, and they didn’t say anything more as Luka got her coat and held it for her. 

Once she was gone, he barely made it back to a chair before his knees gave way. He rubbed a hand over his face and then leaned into it, sighing. That had been…intense. All of it, not just Marinette, but...playing like that, when he hadn’t played for anyone but his family in so long, and trying to help her understand...he hadn’t realized how much it would take out of him.

He was still sitting there when Rose burst in. “Marinette!” she cried, looking at Luka with wide eyes. “Where is she?” 

“She went home,” Luka mumbled, leaning back in the chair.

“What? No, I need her!” Rose exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Why did she leave? What happened?”

“Nothing happened—” Luka began, but a voice from the doorway interrupted him.

“He made her cry,” Juleka smirked. 

Rose whirled to look at her, while Luka glared at her over Rose’s head, but Juleka just grinned wider when Rose turned back and began to hit Luka in the arm over and over with her tiny yet surprisingly hard fist. “You idiot! You did not! You made her _cry?_ What’s the matter with you?” 

Luka put up his hands in defense. “Rose,” he whined. “Look, I told you this wasn’t a date, and it’s not going to happen—”

“Who cares about your pathetic excuse for a love life?” Rose roared, hitting him faster. “You can’t run her off, _I need her!_ The pageant’s going to be a disaster!”

“Wait, what?” Juleka frowned, coming into the room. 

“That’s what Sabrina was calling about!” Rose exclaimed. “The costumes that were in storage—they’re a disaster! Moths or rats or water or all three, I don’t even know. And here I made friends with someone who designs and sews and then like a _bonehead_ I had to set her up with your stupid socially inept—” 

“He played for her,” Juleka broke in, and Rose stopped hitting him long enough to look at her. It took a moment for the words to sink in, and then Rose’s eyes widened. She turned back to Luka and he flinched. “You did not!”

“I did,” Luka admitted, running his fingers through his hair. “I really did,” he realized, feeling suddenly weak again. He covered his mouth with his hand and tried to pretend like he wasn’t suppressing the urge to scream. 

“Tell me everything _right now_!” Rose demanded, grabbing a fistful of his sweater and dragging him out of his chair and over to the couch. She sat down next to him with a determined expression. Luka looked up at Juleka pleadingly, but she just grinned. 

_That’s for eating all the cookies,_ she mouthed, and left before Luka could make a rude gesture. 


	15. Dress Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, well, obviously this month didn't go anything like I planned, but I'm at least gonna finish the Hallmark AU! It's mostly written, I'm just finalizing it and taking care of all the boring stuff I always skip when I write the first draft! So never fear, we'll finish it before February. I think we have...three, maybe four pieces left to go (famous last words). 
> 
> The prompt here was "Dress Up" and this is actually part 1 of 2--partly because I realized that what I had planned worked better as two separate scenes and partly because I haven't quite finished part 2 yet anyway, so might as well split it so I can publish this part. 
> 
> This was partly inspired by [The Best Christmas Pageant Ever](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Best_Christmas_Pageant_Ever)

Marinette was sure she would never get used to this small town thing where people popped by without warning. She gave a slightly mournful glance at the pot of coffee that had just finished brewing, and went to get the door with a sigh.

Luka Couffaine stood on the other side, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a bouquet of multicolored flowers. He had that same look of longsuffering he’d worn when he’d come with his mother, but it softened into a smile as he saw her. 

“Um, hi,” Marinette said, suddenly breathless. Why was she nervous? It was just Luka. She just...hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, after she’d cried all over him. She felt both embarrassed and oddly shy. 

“Hi.” Luka gave her a lopsided smile and offered her the flowers. “Rose made me buy them and told me not to come home until you’d forgiven me for upsetting you last night.” 

Marinette’s mouth dropped open as she took the flowers automatically. “But you didn’t do anything wrong,” she protested weakly, looking up at him. 

Luka shrugged. “It was easier not to argue.” 

Marinette giggled a little at that, and Luka’s smile widened for an instant before he looked down. “To be honest,” he began, shoulders curling inward slightly, “I wanted to see you anyway. Make sure you were okay, after all that. It got pretty intense and...I didn’t mean to put that on you.” He straightened and met her eyes again. “I am genuinely sorry about that. I wasn’t intending to upset you so badly.” 

“You didn’t,” Marinette told him, laying a hand on his arm. “Really, Luka. It wasn’t you. And I appreciate that you showed me something so…” she hesitated. 

“Raw?” Luka supplied, with a half smile, and Marinette hunched her shoulders a little in embarrassed acknowledgement. “Sorry if it was too much.”

Marinette shook her head, looking down to play with the stems of the bouquet. “I understand why you did it, and I feel...maybe flattered isn’t the right word, but it’s as close as I can get. I appreciate that you showed me that even though it was hard for you. I do feel like I understand you better now, and…” she shrugged. ”It was worth it.”

Luka glanced away, but he was smiling. “It wasn’t as hard as you might think. Not when it was you.”

Marinette blushed, not at all sure how to respond to that, and there was a moment of awkward silence before Luka cleared his throat. 

“So, um…” he winced. “Rose kind of needs a favor, and so after I grovelled at your feet,” he grinned, and Marinette huffed a quick giggle, “I was supposed to ask if you’d be willing to come over to the library and take a look at what she needs. I can take you now, or you can swing by later, whatever works for you.” 

“Oh,” Marinette blinked. “Uh...sure, now’s good I guess. Just—let me put these in some water and get my coffee in a travel mug?” 

“Yeah, sure, no rush,” Luka said, backing up a step. “I’ll get the truck warmed up.” 

He retreated with quick steps, and then climbed into his truck and started it up, holding a hand over the air vent. It had gotten most of the way warmed up on the trip over, but the air blowing from the vents was still a bit chilly. 

_ What am I doing?  _ he asked himself, and then sighed. He really didn’t know. He just...he felt his expression soften as he glanced up, watching Marinette come out of Gina’s door. He hopped out to open the other door for her. It was a big step up for her into the truck, and when he took her coffee and held her arm to steady her, she turned a warm smile on him that he felt all the way down to his toes.

Okay, he definitely didn’t know what he was doing, but he knew he had to do something. These feelings weren’t going anywhere, and he was starting to feel like a liar, hanging out with her as friends without telling her he was beginning to have deeper feelings for her. 

Way past beginning, if he was honest. 

_ Well _ , he thought as he handed back her coffee and closed her door,  _ I was always good at winging it. _

“So what is it that Rose needs?” Marinette asked, as he got up into the driver’s seat and closed the door. 

“Well,” Luka said, flashing Marinette a quick grin, “it seems that there was a  _ mishap _ in the storage of last year’s pageant costumes, and Rose is hoping you can bail her out.” 

_ Mishap _ , he called it. Marinette stared in horror at the costumes Rose had laid out. They were moldy, and stained, and moth-eaten—no, that couldn’t have been moths, did they have  _ rats _ ? Ugh. Marinette’s skin crawled just looking at them.

“Do you think you can save them?” Rose asked, hands folded together in a pleading pose, huge blue eyes staring at Marinette over them. 

Marinette winced. “Rose...I don’t think there’s any salvaging these. I don’t know what got to them but…” She looked back at the tattered cloth and shuddered. “I think you’d better burn them.” 

Rose’s eyes widened and filled with tears. “Oh no!” she whispered, both hands covering her mouth. 

“But I can try to make you some new ones,” Marinette blurted, and then winced.  _ Oh no, why did I say that?? _

“Really?” Rose squealed, bouncing several feet in the air. “Oh, Marinette, you’re the best!”

“Hold on,” Marinette cautioned, even as Rose threw herself into Marinette’s arms. “Rose,” she tried again, patting Rose’s back reflexively. “I said I’d  _ try _ , but…”

Rose ignored her, seizing her hand and dragging her over to a small crowd of children and teenagers sprawled in, on, and even  _ under _ some of the library tables.

“This is our cast,” Rose said, throwing out her hands with a proud grin. “So you can get whatever measurements you need right now!”

“I don’t—” Marinette began, but fell silent as Rose kept talking, making one-sided introductions that Marinette was absolutely not going to remember. Still, it made her  _ look _ at the children and... 

Marinette had to admit, she could see both why these children had not been picked for the traditional pageant and why Rose was offended about it. The two tallest wore black and slouched their shoulders, hands shoved in the pockets of long coats as they peeked at her through the hair falling in their faces. A shorter girl had pads on her knees and elbows and a sideshave with pink tips on the long side, and was listening with a slightly bored expression to a bubbly redhead who had piercings all up the shell of one ear. A boy sitting next to them, reading a book with his feet propped up on another chair, had pierced ears, killer eyeliner, and a multicolored ombre manicure that made Marinette envious.

The whole crowd was like that, and some of them looked more...mainstream, than others, but they all had something that stood out about them that didn’t exactly say ‘host of angels greeting the holy family’ in the strictly traditional sense. 

“Normally nobody really cares about appearances, but they get stubborn about Christmas and the Christmas pageant,” Rose said with a shrug. “Nobody says it outright, but it’s no coincidence that the traditional kids get picked every year, you know?” 

Looking at the little crowd of kids, Marinette saw a disparate set of personalities, both clinging to stereotypes in an effort to find an identity that worked for them, and breaking out of those stereotypes in new and interesting ways, and she would have loved to follow them each around for a day just for the ideas they sparked in her. 

This wasn’t the time for that, though. 

“I’ll need some materials,” Marinette said doubtfully. She’d already been to the only fabric store in town and it was closed, the owner having gone on vacation somewhere warm and sunny for the month. 

Rose frowned as well, and opened her mouth, but was interrupted. 

“I can help with that.”

Marinette jumped and turned, looking up as Luka gave her a smile. “Hi,” he said, amused, and Marinette blushed. She’d forgotten he was there. 

“I have racks of clothes from my shows in the attic.” Luka shrugged, as if he didn’t notice her discomfort. “Jagged always has a clause in his contract about getting to keep his tour clothes, so it ended up in mine too. You’re welcome to scavenge it for anything you can find.” 

“O-oh,” Marinette blinked. “Well...it’s a start, right? If you’re sure.” She frowned. “That’s probably some really expensive clothes though.” 

Luka shrugged, indicating the hoodie and jeans he wore. “I’m not exactly using it. Might as well go to a good cause.” His gaze softened a little as he looked over her head at the kids. 

Marinette smiled, and looked back as well. “Okay, Rose. Let’s go over what you need and who’s going to be using what, and I’ll get whatever measurements I need.”

“Great!” Rose chirped, bouncing as she clapped her hands. 

The next little while was a bit of a blur, as Marinette tried to take notes on Rose’s chatter while meeting the kids a few at a time. They all looked a little hesitant at first, so Marinette put on her best, most reassuring smile, the one she used with inexperienced models who were nervous about their first big fashion show, and asked them cheerful questions as she took their measurements. She kept the topics light, asking them about their pins or patches or hair color, and most of them had mostly relaxed by the time she was finished. She surprised one or two with her knowledge of video games and laughed when one of them challenged her to a mech strike duel. She wrote her handle on a slip of paper and gave it to him with a wink, and managed not to laugh in the poor boy’s face when he blushed. 

“I think that’s everybody,” Marinette said, waving to the last one, and turned around, blinking. “Where’d Rose go?”

“Hmm?” Luka had been sitting nearby at a table, chin in hand. He blinked like he was coming back to earth, and Marinette felt a twinge of guilt. No surprise he was zoned out, he must have been so bored just watching all of this. She should have let him know he could leave. Surely he had work to do and she could have walked back or gotten a ride with Rose. 

“Oh, I bet I know where they are,” Luka said, rolling his eyes as he got up.

“They?” Marinette echoed, following him. 

“Juleka showed up a little while ago,” he told her. “You were busy at the time.” 

He led her around a bookshelf into a little reading alcove, and Marinette stopped dead, hands flying to suddenly red cheeks. Luka knocked on the bookshelf next to him with an amused, slightly exasperated smile. “Hand check, ladies.” 

Juleka was standing there curled over Rose, her long hair partially hiding the shorter girl from view, but it was plenty clear what they were doing. The sprig of mistletoe in the middle of the decoration hanging over them removed any doubt. 

“What?” Juleka said, annoyed, as she raised her head from a very kiss-bruised and blushing blonde. 

“I’m, um, finished,” Marinette said, embarrassed, waving vaguely back the way they’d come. “You can get on with rehearsal now.” 

“Oh, yay!” Rose perked up. “Thanks Marinette, you’re the best.”

“You have lipstick on your face,” Luka said helpfully, holding back a laugh. Juleka flipped him off, but Rose just linked her arm through Juleka’s and sniffed. 

“Hmph. You’re just jealous because you wish  _ you _ could kiss  _ Marinette _ under the mistletoe. Come on, Juleka.” She dragged her smirking girlfriend off and around the shelves (though she did wipe most of the lavender lipstick off her mouth as she did so).

“Sisters,” Luka muttered. “Just my luck I’m gonna get stuck with another one.” He looked at Marinette’s blushing face and grinned. “You okay?” 

She began to splutter, and Luka couldn’t help laughing. “I’m gonna take that as a no,” he teased.

“How can she say something like that!” Marinette groaned, ducking her head and covering her red cheeks with her hands. 

“Well.” Luka licked his lips, and debated for maybe half a second before he went on. “It’s not like she’s wrong.” 

Marinette’s insides froze. Her head snapped up to look at him. Luka gazed back at her, looking calm though there was a tint of pink in his cheeks that hadn’t been there before. He glanced up, and with a crooked smile, took her hands, pulling them gently from her face. 

“I really would like to kiss you,” he admitted. He stepped back, tugging her lightly along with him until he paused and looked up. Still stunned, Marinette followed his gaze, up to the mistletoe decoration hanging from the ceiling.  _ Oh _ . 

Butterflies took sudden flight in her stomach. She dropped her wide-eyed gaze back to Luka, only to find he was watching her.

“Only if you want to kiss me, though,” he said, with a slight shrug. He threaded his fingers through hers and tugged her a little closer. 

He held her gaze as he bent purposefully towards her. Luka bent until his nose was just brushing hers, head tilted just so, waiting, still watching her through half-lidded eyes. Heart hammering, senses suddenly full of him, of his rough hands in her and the evergreen scent that hung about him, his face filling her vision with those eyes so soft and yet so intense— 

Impulsively Marinette raised her face just enough to let their lips brush together. He didn’t move away, and Marinette did it again, pressing in a little more this time, and then Luka leaned into her and they were really kissing...lightly, but fully. 

It was...electrifying. Their hands untangled as they moved closer together, and he was so solid and strong and warm where she leaned on him. Her hands found his shoulders as his slid up her back, and it felt so  _ good  _ to be held, to feel wanted by anyone, let alone someone who was sweet and kind and down to earth while also being so... _ exceptional.  _ But...even as his lips moved over hers she couldn’t push aside the fact that she was leaving. She had barely a week left, and then her whole family would descend on the town for Christmas dinner at Gina’s house and then...then she would be gone, and what...what would she do then? What was he expecting her to do? She had commitments and a career and he didn’t want that kind of life anymore, and— 

Luka pulled back with a soft click, his eyes staying closed just a moment longer than hers, before he opened them and smiled softly at her. “You’re thinking awfully hard for someone who’s being kissed,” he murmured. 

“It’s a terrible habit,” she said shakily. “I wish I didn’t.” 

“Then don’t,” he said, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. His thumb caressed her gently. “It doesn’t have to be about anything but the here and now, Marinette. Just let the moment be what it is.”

“That’s all well and good,” Marinette sighed, “until the future  _ is  _ the now and you have to deal with the consequences. Luka, I’m  _ leaving _ .” Unconsciously her fingers played nervously with the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“I know,” he said thickly, and cleared his throat. “Maybe I’m just not as efficient as you,” Luka grinned. “But personally, if the outcome is the same either way, I’ll take being deliriously happy for a week over moping around crying in my cheerios until you leave.” 

Marinette burst out laughing at that, and Luka chuckled along. “I’m not trying to pressure you,” he told her, leaning back and lifting a hand to cradle her face, rubbing his thumb over her cheek. “I’m just saying...I’ve come to care about you a lot, Marinette. More than just friendship. I hear you. I know where you stand. I’m okay with whatever you’re willing to give me, whether that’s just this and nothing more, or a couple of dates, or...whatever. You don’t have to worry about leading me on or giving me false expectations. I just want to be with you while I can.”

Marinette sighed. “How can that be enough for you, though? If you really—I mean—”

“I do,” Luka told her softly, tilting her face up to look at him. “I really do, Marinette. Please don’t doubt that. And it’s really not enough,” he admitted, with a sigh to match hers. “If more than that were on offer, I’d gladly take it, but…” He shrugged. “What do we have to lose?” 

Marinette looked at him, caught between conflicting realities. She liked him—she hadn’t even realized until now how much she liked him, but—what was he even asking her for? A week long fling? She...she didn’t do that kind of thing, she wasn’t sure she  _ could _ , and...she didn’t know if she wanted to take on the pain of losing him, and wasn’t it better to just...just be friends for the time they had left? Could they even be friends after this?

Luka, watching her again, stepped back and dropped his hands back down to hers. He squeezed her hands gently, bringing her focus back to him. “Listen, we’re still friends. If you decide you’re okay with being more than that for the time you have left, you let me know.” He sighed, but cut it off and smiled. “Come on, if you’re done here, I’ll take you home.” 

He dropped one hand, but kept a gentle hold on the other, squeezing it lightly before he dropped it so she could pack up her things. Marinette packed her kit mechanically, glancing at him. Luka appeared perfectly at ease, chatting with one of the kids, and he didn’t so much as look at her. Trying to make things easy, she supposed, as he always did. Giving her some space, maybe, to absorb the sudden shift in her reality.

The reality where Luka—who was also Luke Stone the rock star and that was definitely too much for her to think about right now—liked her, as more than a friend, and  _ told her so _ , and kissed her, and  _ oh my I kissed Luke Stone, Alya would freak _ —    


She knocked a coiled up tape measure off the table and it bounced and exploded into a tangle on the floor. One of the kids scrambled over to pick it up for her, and she managed to thank her with a smile, and just stuffed the whole jumbled thing into her usually-immaculate kit.

Her hands were shaking as she snapped it closed and looked for Luka. He smiled at her, and made his farewells to the boy he’d been talking to. He walked beside Marinette to the door with his hands in his pockets, and opened it for her. It was a stupid thing to blush about but Marinette did anyway. 

She still accepted his steadying hand to get up into the truck, and the smile he sent her was reassuring. She relaxed a little. He didn’t seem angry or hurt, and her nerves eased a little bit as he climbed up in his seat and started up the truck. 

Neither of them said much on the way home, and Marinette was grateful, because she was sure she would start to babble if she opened her mouth at all. Luka turned on some music, and Marinette smiled slightly as she realized it was Jagged’s latest album. She ventured to ask a question about one song in particular that she had always wondered about, and Luka answered her easily with a tale about the night on tour when Jagged had been inspired to write the thing. Marinette felt a little better by the time Luka dropped her off at home. Maybe this was okay after all. Maybe he was right and they could still be friends from here. 

“You can come look at the clothes whenever you’re ready,” Luka told her as he held her kit while she jumped down from the seat. “The farm’s effectively closed for the season since pretty much everybody has their tree now. Just come on over once you’ve got an idea what you need.” 

“Okay,” Marinette tried to smile. “Thank you, Luka.” 

Luka chucked her gently under the chin. “Don’t make me something else you’re worrying about, okay? You don’t have to tell me what’s going on but I can see you’ve got some things weighing you down, and I don’t want to be one of them. I’m just...I’m here for you. However you want me to be.”

Marinette’s smile was maybe still a little wobbly, but much more sincere. “Thanks, Luka.” 

“Sure.” He let her take her kit back, and watched her until she was inside. Then he turned and climbed back up in the truck.

Luka was very, very good at keeping it all together. He didn’t freak out, he didn’t panic, and he didn’t get upset—on the outside. His hands shook a little bit right before he gripped the steering wheel, but otherwise he was completely normal, right up until he shut the door in his own room at home.

Even then, all he did was bury his hands in his hair, slide down the door to sit on the floor, and sigh heavily. It was done, after all. He’d made his move and now he had to live with it. Luka didn’t regret it, exactly, but...he wished things were different. He really did. Maybe he should have talked to her instead of going straight to kissing, but...

He let go of his hair and thumped his head back against the door. He needed something to do. 

Well, the attic was probably a disaster. Might as well go up there and see if he couldn’t make it less of one before Marinette came over.


	16. Dress Up Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: "It's almost done, no sweat!"  
> Also me: (takes a week to update something that was supposed to be updated daily)
> 
> Ah well. It was (and still is) true that it's almost done, but I really wanted to get this piece right, so it took a few tries. Look for the next piece in the next couple of days, though.

Marinette tapped her pencil on the small stack of sketches and sighed. She felt dissatisfied with them, but that was nothing new. She was dissatisfied with almost everything she made these days, so why should this be any different?

Her thoughts drifted back to Luka for the hundredth time. She was going to have to face him again. He was expecting her and she really did need to source some materials from the wardrobe he was offering. 

She might be able to put it off a day, though, she mused. Maybe it would be better to give him some space, anyway. She had just rejected him, after all. That had to sting, no matter how chill he acted about it. Marinette would be doing him a favor, staying away for a day. She could go shopping and see what she could get in the way of basic materials first. That was a perfectly plausible excuse. 

_ Coward _ , she thought sourly at herself, and sighed, dropping her head into her arms.

It would be easier if she didn’t like him so much. Marinette turned her head and looked at her phone where it lay on the table in its cheerful pink case. She could text him, but...would that be weird? People here didn’t seem to do that, they just...popped up. He’d told her just to show up whenever, but…

_ I don’t have his number _ , she realized suddenly. How funny was that? All the times they’d talked, and they’d never even traded numbers. 

She wouldn’t even be able to text him when she went back to the city. The thought made her ache, but she pushed it aside. That was the kind of problem you could push off for later, she thought as she packed up her things. Not like making out with a guy you were probably never going to see again once the week was out. Which was a real, actual problem that should be avoided. 

Right?

Marinette groaned, and grabbed Gina’s car keys, marching out of the door. She had a job to do, and surely she was still professional enough to manage that much. 

She had herself mostly together by the time she pulled into the Couffaine farm. The yard wasn’t empty when she pulled in, to her mild surprise. 

“Ahoy, Marinette!” Anarka called, waving at her, and Marinette, feeling she should be polite, got her kit out of the car and walked over to where Anarka was working. Ankara was unloading some small saplings from the back of a pickup truck that looked a lot like Luka’s, only about twenty years older. “For a moment there, I fergot it was you and not yer grandma pulling up,” Anarka chuckled as Marinette approached. “Here t’see Luka, I expect? He said ye were comin’ by.” 

“Yes,” Marinette tried to smile, and hoped she didn’t blush too hard at Luka’s name.  _ Yes, hi, I kissed your son this morning and broke his heart, so this isn’t awkward at all. Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it? _

“He’s been working like a demon all day,” Anarka commented, lifting another tree down with a grunt. “He was drivin’ me crazy, bein’ so  _ efficient _ , and I about bit his head off.” She glanced at Marinette, who tried hard not to look guilty. “Told him to make himself scarce for a bit. I think he went t’ take a shower, but he should be done by now.” 

“Oh,” Marinette said lamely, trying very hard  _ not  _ to think of accidentally walking in on a freshly showered and not entirely dressed Luka. Maybe awkward small talk was for the best. “He, um. He said you were done for the year?”

“Aye, closed to the public fer the year,” Anarka smiled. “Though o’ course if there was anyone in town that needed anythin’ we’d open right back up. Nah, the public part of business is done for the year. Now it’s just all the work nobody sees.” She turned away from Marinette for a moment, walking over to the rail fence that separated the rows of trees. Marinette followed, unsure what else to do, her kit bumping against her knees as she carefully skirted the saplings. 

“Never really thought I’d end up in a place like this,” Anarka said, leaning her elbows against the fence rails. “There’s a kinda poetry t’ it, though. Renewal. Rebirth. The old makin’ way for the young.” She winked at Marinette, and then went on. “I might not even be here by the time these trees are big enough t’ cut. Got a wandering foot, y’know, and it’ll take seven or eight years minimum for these to get the size where anyone would even consider cutting ‘em. Who’s to say I won’t be off to some new adventure by then? But they’ll still be here, growing, because I planted them. Endings, beginnings. Sometimes it’s hard to tell one apart from the other, aye?” 

Marinette made a noise in reply automatically, but Anarka’s musings had put her thoughts on another track, and she barely heard the last bit. 

Anarka eyed her sidelong for a moment, and then sighed and shoved herself off the fence, turning to smile at Marinette with her hand on her hips. “Out with it, lass, what’s on yer mind?” 

Marinette blushed, snapping back to the present. “Nothing. It’s none of my business.” 

“Maybe not,” Anarka shrugged. “Ye can still ask, though. If I don’t want to tell ye, I just won’t.” 

Marinette shifted her weight and adjusted her grip on the handle of her kit, still uncomfortable, but...“Were you...disappointed?” she asked in a low voice. “When Luka gave up his career?”

Anarka laughed loud enough that it echoed back to them. “Nah, lass, I was  _ proud _ . Luka was miserable, livin’ that life. It takes guts to admit that and come home, ‘specially when everyone around you is telling you how lucky ye are, having a talent and a chance like that. Like somehow you owe some cosmic debt and if ye don’t stick it out, yer wastin’ somethin’. Like  _ success _ is a cookie cutter and ye have to slice away bits of yerself to make it fit.” She shook her head. “It’s not how I raised my kids. I taught them to take chances, and I taught them not to let fear make their decisions—and I also taught them that there’s no shame in what the world likes to call failure. There’s no shame in trying out the different shapes of success until you find one that fits, instead o’ tryin’ t’ force yerself into the one kind.” 

Marinette blinked at her, surprised at the way her expression softened as she spoke. 

Anarka was silent a moment and then sighed. “Still. You do your best to teach them, but you never know whether the lesson’s gonna stick. So when I think of the courage it took for Luka to walk away, to look so-called failure in the face and turn it into just another lesson learned, to find a way to believe that he’s still his father’s son even if he doesn’t follow in the old man’s footsteps—I’m so proud I could burst.” Marinette started slightly as Anarka suddenly stepped forward and put a surprisingly gentle hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “Luka’s never needed to prove his talent to me, lass. He’s still finding his feet again, and that’s okay. When he’s ready, he’ll make success fit him instead of the other way around, I’ve no doubt of that.” She squeezed Marinette’s shoulder, and looked at Marinette for a long moment. Marinette swallowed nervously, but couldn’t think of anything to say. 

Ankara let her hand drop and jerked her head towards the house. “Go on now, we’ve both got things to be doing. Go straight on in, he’ll be expecting you.” She turned back to her young trees, and Marinette, clearly dismissed, turned towards the house, butterflies surging back to life in her stomach. She was being stupid, she told herself. Luka had accepted her rejection gracefully, and tried so hard to make her comfortable. Marinette was sure she’d hurt his feelings if she suddenly got awkward about being around him, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. 

Marinette sneaked a glance back towards Anarka, and then despite what she had been told, she knocked as loudly as she could. She lingered on the doorstep as long as she dared (which wasn’t very long, knowing that Anarka could see her not going on in), and let herself into the house. She could hear guitar music even before she got the creaky old door open, and once inside, she followed it to the great room. Luka was perched on the same fragile-looking chair as before, with an acoustic in his hands this time. He looked up as she entered, and smiled, laying his hand flat against the strings. His hair was damp, and his t-shirt sticking to him a little bit. He couldn’t have been out of the shower long and Marinette was kind of glad she’d stopped to talk to Anarka. 

Luka stood up and put the guitar in a stand, and Marinette realized she hadn’t even said hi, but it seemed too late now. “I was starting to think Mom was going to talk your ear off before you made it up here,” Luka teased gently as he straightened. 

“Oh, we were just, um—” Marinette winced. “Talking.” She was so lame, ugh. 

“I saw through the window,” Luka grinned. “Figured you’d get here when you were ready. The stuff’s all in the attic, so…” He gestured towards the stairs, and then reached for her kit. “Can I get that for you?”

Too flustered to object politely, Marinette let him take it, and then followed him. She should say something, she thought, but she couldn’t think of anything.

She sighed mournfully as they climbed the stairs. Part of her ached for what he was offering—but she was pretty sure that same part wouldn’t want to let him go, and that was just...and really, she was such a disaster, and he was  _ amazing _ , and he deserved so much better than someone who was so mixed up and wishy-washy. Why did they have to meet like this? Would it have been different if they met before?

Except before, she was with Adrien, too dazzled and in love to even see anyone else, and Luka had been a rock star, surrounded by all the glamorous women he could possibly want, and she had never really  _ stood out _ , as Audrey loved to remind her. She just didn’t have Adrien’s celebrity magnetism, nor Audrey’s force of personality, so she was always overlooked. It was no wonder that nobody ever really saw her until she came here. 

“Well, here we are,” Luka’s voice broke into her thoughts. He was reaching up to grab a hanging cord. 

Marinette shook her head and slapped her cheeks as Luka pulled the attic ladder down and ascended it. None of this was actually solving the problem at hand. She needed to keep her mind on the costumes. Marinette had sketched out some ideas at home, thinking she could probably get some sheets to use as a base, and then maybe she could source some of the less expensive things from Luka’s old wardrobe for embellishments on the fancier things like the angels, or for the snaps and things. There was a single big box store in town, actually; the selection would be limited but surely she could find some things there too. This project was ridiculously easy, when it came down to it. She had a plan that would work, and it was all simple sewing, stuff she could do in her sleep. No sweat. 

So why were her hands shaking?

She lifted her hands and watched them tremble before her eyes. She felt her breath getting short.

She started when a large hand closed over both of hers. “Marinette.” She looked up, and Luka was there, framed against the light coming down from the attic. “Are you all right?” 

“Yeah,” she said, a little too quickly, with a smile that was a little too wide. “Just, hoping there will be some stuff I can use.” 

Luka smiled. “It’ll be fine. Come on up.” He shifted his hold to just one of her hands and drew her up the narrow stairs after him.

He let go of her hand once she was up, and Marinette looked around in mild surprise. The attic was cleaner than she expected. Cluttered, like the rest of the house, and full of things in piles and stacked, sometimes draped in sheets, but she didn’t encounter the dust she had expected, and the small, high windows were clean and let in plenty of light. She wondered if they were just carting things in and out of here so often that they kept it clean, or if they used the space for more than storage. There was a clear path to where they needed to be, and she followed Luka across the creaking floor.

Marinette waited nervously as he whisked the protective sheets off two racks of clothes. Marinette had to blink as the light hit the clothes; there were metal accents and rhinestones and metallic fabrics everywhere, and she was unprepared for the amount of light they threw back in her eyes. 

“There it is,” Luka sighed, folding his arms as he sat on a trunk a short distance away. “Every bedazzled scrap of it.”

She had to giggle a little at that. Luke Stone had certainly favored ostentation, though that was almost unavoidable when you played with Jagged Stone. 

Still, they didn’t have to, she thought, as she walked up and began mechanically sliding looks along the rack to have a look. They could have played up his simplicity. They could have made him stand out by contrast, rather than by imitation. She wondered if they were deliberately setting up an implied rivalry between father and son with their choices, or if they just hadn’t thought a rock star could be simple. Costume design wasn’t exactly the same thing as fashion design, but there was enough overlap that— 

Marinette brought her thoughts back to the present, and swallowed as she stepped back again, suddenly overwhelmed. She turned away and opened her kit slowly, taking out the stack of drawings she’d left on top, suddenly profoundly dissatisfied with them. Rose and the kids expected her to work magic with this stuff, and all she had was a pile of generic toga-style costumes.

_ Simple. Uninspired. Pedestrian.  _

Her gut began to churn.

Marinette glanced at Luka nervously, and then jerked her gaze quickly away, but of course he caught it. 

“I don’t have to be here if it makes you uncomfortable,” he said quietly. “I can go back downstairs and you can just call me if you need help with anything.”

That was so far from her thoughts that it gave her pause. “You...don’t make me uncomfortable,” she said, and looked back at him with a sad smile. “You never have. You’ve been...really wonderful, Luka, now matter how weird things got. I am uncomfortable, but it’s not about you.” Taking a breath, Marinette stepped back to the rack and ran her fingers down the fabric in front of her in a practiced motion, taking in the composition and the drape almost without conscious thought.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Luka asked quietly. 

Marinette thought about that for a moment, and then turned back to the garments on the rack. “Not tonight.” She couldn’t afford to get worked up now, she had to figure something out. She...she had to do something, she couldn’t just…

“Okay.” Luka said simply, and Marinette swallowed hard, squeezing her eyes shut. He was so understanding, but—what was she going to do? She couldn’t just drape the kids in sheets and call it a day, they deserved so much better than that. She had to figure something out, she had to—She put both hands in her hair and pulled it, trying to focus on the clothes in front of her, but her eyes stung. She squeezed them shut tight and held her breath, trying to keep it together. 

Luka’s hands closed on her shoulders from behind, squeezing lightly, and Marinette turned to him in a rush, burying her face in his chest. 

“Marinette, look at me,” he said, pushing her shoulders back gently and taking her face in his hands. “Just breathe, and look at me.”

Marinette stared up into his blue eyes, reflecting calm and assurance while all that fluttered in her chest was panic and self-doubt.

“ _ Slow down _ ,” he said emphatically. “It’s okay.”

“But I—” she began, and he shook his head.

“Marinette. There’s no failure here.  _ Anything _ you put together will be better than moldy, moth-eaten rags. Without your help we’d all be frantically cutting armholes in pillowcases or something. No matter what you do, Rose will be ecstatic.” He smiled encouragingly at her. “These are the lowest possible stakes. You can’t screw up, so just have fun with it.” 

Marinette turned her head out of his hands, looking at the designer, rock star wardrobe laid out for her to use. “But—”

Luka reached over and grabbed her fabric scissors out of her kit. He grabbed a shirt at random off the rack, and cut it in half in a ragged line. Marinette stared as he offered her the scissors back. “That’s how little I care about this stuff,” he grinned. 

Marinette’s mouth closed abruptly and she glared at him, and would have snatched the scissors from them if they hadn’t been—well, scissors. Well-sharpened fabric scissors at that. Instead she took them with the appropriate amount of care even as she narrowed her eyes at him. “I might have needed that,” she told him, kicking his foot lightly. 

“I have faith,” Luka grinned wider. “You’ll manage.” 

She huffed and turned back to the garments, and looked at the second rack next to her. Luka backed away, leaning his elbows on an old dresser as he watched her. 

Marinette studied the racks, and suddenly she pulled out her phone, swiping to the group photo she’d taken at the library today. She looked over the children there, at their dyed hair and punk haircuts and all-black outfits interspersed with riots of color, and began to smile a bit. “Okay,” she muttered, picking up a leather garment studded with rhinestones. “I guess this Christmas is about to get a little bit rock ‘n roll.” 

Luka raised his eyebrows slightly.

Marinette barely noticed him, eyes lighting up as her mind began racing. She picked up the stack of designs she had done earlier and crumpled them absently in her hands. “I need my sketchbook,” she muttered. 

“I’ll get it,” Luka said, shoving off the dresser and crossing the room. “Where?”

“I left it in my car. On the passenger seat, I think.”

Luka clattered down the stairs and out of the front door to grab Marinette’s sketchbook. Halfway back up the stairs he hesitated, and ducked into his room to grab his own notebook. Marinette practically snatched the book out of his hand, digging in her kit for her pencils, and Luka grinned, sitting back on the trunk again and resting his notebook on his knee. 

He watched her, fascinated, as her focus narrowed to her task, and she began sketching, making notes and separating out items from the stacks of clothing he never thought he’d look at again. Luka began scribbling notes to himself as well, just...idle thoughts, the web of concepts and ideas that eventually came together to make a song, but he kept looking up to watch her, intrigued by her creative process. She muttered something to herself or tossed something aside with more vehemence than usual and he grinned. 

Slowly, the attic transformed, suddenly strewn with gaudy clothes. Several distinct heaps were forming. Every once in a while Marinette would stop, and go back to her sketchbook, scratching in new details or ideas, or crossing something out with a sigh. 

He jumped slightly, though, when she tossed the book aside with a little scream, and buried her face in her hands. “I’m such an idiot,” she muttered. “Why didn’t I think of that? It’s never going to hold up with that kind of weight, I’m so  _ stupid _ —” 

“Whoa,” Luka said, a little sharply than he’d meant to, putting his notebook aside and getting up quickly to go to her. “Hey, hey, hey, slow down. What’s wrong?”

“I just—I should have accounted for this, and I didn’t, and now I have to change it—”

“Okay, so change it,” Luka said, putting his hands on her shoulders again to make her look at him. Marinette looked at him like he had two heads, and he almost laughed at her. “Marinette, you’re an artist, not a machine. It’s okay to backtrack and change your mind.” He smiled at her, hoping he looked reassuring and not enchanted. “I know every artist is different and music isn’t the same as fashion, but for me…” he shrugged. “Success comes from a series of small failures. You try something, and it mostly works, but something isn’t quite right, so you make a change and try again. That’s not something to be ashamed of or upset about. If you’re that frustrated, we could take a break. Or if you want to rework it some and come back tomorrow, that’s fine too. I’m not going anywhere.”

Marinette stared at him for a minute, her mouth working soundlessly. She looked down at the sketchbook in her hands, and then back up at him. 

“Do you want to take a break?” Luka asked her. 

“I...no,” she said. “It’s...it’s not  _ that _ big of a deal, I’m pretty sure I can fix it if I...um—” 

“Okay,” he said simply, giving her shoulders a little squeeze. He really wanted to hug her, to hold her tight and tell her how amazing he found her, how entranced he was watching her work, how  _ alive _ she looked when she was creating, but—he couldn’t, so he squeezed her shoulders and then let his hands fall. “No need to explain it, I trust you.” He glanced down at the book, and then looked away. “Sorry, I’m not trying to peek, but that—that looks really badass.” He couldn’t help looking again, and, blushing, Marinette turned the book so he could see. His smile grew as he looked at it. “That’s amazing, Marinette, what are you worrying about? If it looks half this cool in real life we’re going to have to have someone standing by to give Rose oxygen.” 

Marinette giggled, and looked back down at it herself. “You really think so?” she murmured, with a small smile that made his heart skip. Just when he thought she couldn’t get any sweeter. 

“I definitely think so,” Luka told her, backing away. He sat down on the floor this time, leaning back against the trunk. He groped behind him blindly for his notebook and nearly knocked it off the far side of the trunk. 

Marinette gave a pleased hum, and then took a deep breath before her brows furrowed into her concentration face. Luka drew his knees up and leaned one elbow on them, smiling like the fool he was. 

There were a few more frustrated groans, but no more spirals, and Luka kept quietly in his place even as piles of fabric grew around him. Finally she sat back and sighed. “I think that’s everything I’m going to need.” 

“Cool.” Luka looked up from his notebook and smiled. 

“I’m so sorry about the mess,” Marinette gasped, looking around as if she had only just now realized the chaos she had created. “I can help you clean it up—” 

Luka cut her off with a laugh. “You’re welcome to,” he chuckled, “but there’s really no need. Clutter is a way of life around here. Trust me, the only reason they were so organized to begin with is because they were delivered that way.” His eyes fell to her sketchbook. “Can I see what you have in mind?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity any more.

Marinette tensed up immediately, biting her lip. She looked at the book and then at Luka, and then she offered it to him.

Luka took it, though his eyes stayed on her, concerned and a little baffled by her hesitation when the one sketch he’d seen had been so cool. Marinette turned back to the pile of garments she had chosen, though, and so he let his eyes fall and began looking through the few pages of sketches she had made, careful not to go beyond even though he was aching to see more. A slow smile grew on his face as he looked, and he shook his head slightly. “The angels are still my favorite, but these are  _ amazing _ , Marinette. You might want to get some earplugs because Rose is going to shatter glass when she sees these.” He grinned up at her. “I knew you could do it.” 

She smiled faintly, but looked away. “They’re just pictures, though. I still have to actually execute the designs.” 

“Hey,” Luka said, reaching a hand up towards her. Marinette blinked in surprise, but she slowly stepped forward and put her hand in his. He tugged gently, and she sank to her knees in front of him. “ Yeah, you might have to make some changes when you go to actually put it together, but that’s part of the process for everybody. Sometimes a song I thought was finished doesn’t work out right the first time I play it with the band, and I have to make some changes.” He hesitated, and then went on. “I don’t know what’s going on in there,” he poked her forehead gently. “And I’m not exactly up on fashion, but—” he gestured at the racks of clothes. “I have some experience too, and I gotta say…” he shook his head, and turned the sketchbook towards her. “You outclass anybody else I’ve worked with by far.” 

Marinette blushed deeply. “They’re just costumes,” she murmured, tucking her hair back as she looked away. 

“They could have been, but they’re not.” Luka offered her the book back. “Marinette.” He waited until she looked at him. “Do you like them?”

Marinette looked back at the drawings, and bit her lip. Her face was growing red again. “Yes,” she finally admitted quietly. 

Luka put his fingers under her chin and tipped her face back up. “Stop thinking so hard,” he said gently. “I know it’s easy to lose faith in yourself, but...you’re creating something, you have to find a way to tune all of that stuff out and just  _ be _ in that moment. You can deal with the aftermath afterwards.” He grinned. “That’s what editing is for, right? Or so I’m told. I was never any good at it.” 

Marinette smiled. “That’s why your music was so good. It was...raw, instinctive. Still polished, but deeply emotional. It’s why I always loved it.” 

It was Luka’s turn to flame up red, and Marinette giggled. 

“That wasn’t fair,” he huffed, pulling his knees up to hide his face in his arms for a moment.

Marinette laughed harder. “How many thousands of records sold and you blush at a little old compliment from a fan?” she teased. 

Luka turned his face on his arms so that he was looking at her. “You’re not just any fan,” he said, and smiled at the pink returning to her cheeks. He sighed, raising his head, and letting his legs fall and cross beneath him again. “Don’t ever let anyone let you feel like you’re not special, Marinette.”

“It’s definitely not a problem when I’m with you,” she said, and then bit her lip, like it had slipped out without her intending it to. 

“Good,” he grinned, and then decided he’d better move before he did something stupid. “So, show me what you need me to take down to the car for you, and we’ll just leave the rest of it like this until you’re done in case you need to come back for something.” 

“Oh,” Marinette’s eyes widened slightly and she scrambled to her feet. “Right.” 

She told him which piles of clothes she wanted to take, and Luka got some bags and gathered them up. Marinette made a token effort at tidying up, despite Luka having told her to leave it. She hung a few things back on the rack, and paused suddenly, hand hovering over a jacket still on the rack. 

Marinette picked it up slowly, looking at it. The scent of leather and something like electronics hit her nose, and her eyes widened slightly. She felt around the bottom hem and found something hard and rectangular there. Another minute of searching, and the jacket lit up in her hands, the fiber optic lights sewn into the seam pulsing faintly. 

Marinette laughed a little, and crossed over to the trunk Luka had been using as a chair all afternoon. She sat down and spread the jacket across her lap. She remembered this. He’d been wearing it at the show she’d gone to. They’d started with all the lights off and just Luka on stage, wearing this jacket and the pants that went with it, making him just an electric outline on the stage when the curtain went up. 

Hard to reconcile that image with the guy from the tree farm, she thought affectionately. But then, he’d always had a reputation for being a sweetheart, good to his fans and generous with his time, so...maybe it wasn’t so hard to believe. 

_ At least this contraption is well made _ , she thought, running a finger along one of the light tubes. It was still secure after all this time, and clearly in working order. 

The lights began to flash and jump around, and Marinette giggled. It had started that right before Luke had swept his hand up and down in a dramatic power chord that had rattled her teeth. Once again it was hard to reconcile them in her mind. It was almost funny, now that she knew Luka, remembering those dramatics. 

The light reflected back off something in the corner of her eye, and when she looked, she saw it was the metal coil of Luka’s notebook, half buried under a pile of clothes he had shoved out of the way. She picked the notebook up and smiled a little bit as she did so; the page was a mess, full of scratched out lines, and the writing went every which way in a complicated web. Was this how his mind worked? It was so different from her own process— 

_ Jewels  
_ _ Diamonds in the sands of time  
_ _ Those are my memories with you  
_ _ And even if it’s only a precious few  
_ __ They’re the ones I’ll keep when everything else flows away

It made Marinette think of her first fashion show, when she’d been new and excited about the garments she was putting out there, excited and happy. That moment shone jewel-bright in her memory, despite all the drudgery that had followed it. That was she was working for, after all, another chance at that feeling. All of this frustration would be worth it if she could have another moment like that. 

Marinette blinked back to reality and suddenly realized what she was doing. She slammed her eyes shut and turned the notebook over in her lap. Oh, she shouldn’t have looked at that, she thought frantically, her heart suddenly beating triple time. This—this was private, just like her designs were, and she shouldn’t have—but she hadn’t meant to— 

Luka’s heavy boots thunked on the stairs and Marinette jumped, dropping the notebook so that it landed on the floor splayed open with an inelegant  _ smack _ . Marinette scrambled up and hurriedly grabbed it again. She hastily smoothed it out as Luka came the rest of the way up into the attic. “Oh, I think this one is yours,” she said, holding it out to him. 

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” Luka said, curling it in half and sticking it in his back pocket. Marinette tried not to wince. “Anything else?” His eyes landed on the jacket in her hands. “Oh, I see you found the switch,” he chuckled. 

“Will you put it on?” Marinette blurted, and Luka raised his eyebrows at her. “Please?” she smiled, hunching her shoulders slightly as she held it up. 

Eyebrows still raised, Luka took it, and slipped it on. He grimaced slightly as he zipped it up. “Definitely doesn’t fit as comfortably as it used to,” he commented, tugging down on the hem. “Not too bad, though.” 

“You probably build muscles in different places, hauling trees,” Marinette said absently, stepping forward to adjust the way it sat across his shoulders for a moment. “Not as uniform a workout as using a personal trainer. It gives you a more natural build.” She smiled a little as she smoothed the arms and stepped back.

“It still looks good on you,” she observed. “You were wearing this at the concert I went to. The first time I saw you live.” 

Luka smiled ruefully. “Doesn’t exactly have the same effect in my attic, does it?”

“No,” Marinette smiled back. “It was a wonderful performance, though, and I guess I wasn’t expecting to be reminded of it just now.” She bit her lip and asked in a rush, “Were you...were you writing a song? Just now?” She gestured vaguely toward his pocket. 

Luka looked a little taken aback, but not offended. “I was starting to,” he admitted. “I...really enjoy the time we spend together, and it was really nice, seeing a new side of you today. I guess I felt a little inspired, yeah.” 

Marinette’s breath caught. “It was...about me?” 

“About you and me, yeah,” he admitted. “Does that bother you?” 

Marinette’s eyes widened. “No!” How could he think she’d be offended by such a thing? It was...it was amazing, that she’d inspired anything in him, when she was so—and—how she had felt, in that first fashion show, was he...was he saying he felt that way with  _ her _ ? She shied away from the idea even as she thought it, it was so...so  _ much _ , and she was so—she was— 

Oh no. Luka was looking at her intently, a slight crease in his forehead. She tried to think of something to say, but her internal meltdown was too complete, and she just stared at him. 

“You’re extraordinary, Marinette,” Luka said softly, and his expression was completely serious and not at all flirtatious. “Getting to see you work today was a privilege. I’m better for meeting you, even if my heart breaks when you’re gone. It’s...it’s a long way from being a song, but I meant it.”

“But I’m…”

Luka shook his head slightly, a smile softening his expression. “You’re what, Marinette? Tell me everything, I want to hear all of it.” 

Marinette gaped. “You—you—how do you do that?” she cried, throwing her hands up. “You’re sweet and kind and you have an amazing talent but you’re so laid back and grounded and—”

“And you are all of those things too,” Luka laughed. “Except maybe the laid back part.” He grinned, and Marinette made a face at him. “You kinda maybe worry too—”

Marinette had taken two large steps toward him. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled. Luka staggered, grabbing on to her shoulders as she dragged him down and kissed him. 

He made a very undignified noise even as his arms were coming down to wrap around her. Marinette couldn’t hold the kiss very long; she hadn’t taken a good breath and her nose was smashed against his cheek, so she was forced to break it before Luka really even had a chance to respond. 

Luka sucked in a breath, blinking at her. “Are you sure?” he blurted, and then looked like he wanted to kick himself. Marinette had to giggle, giddy with elation and adrenaline, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest. 

“No,” she told him when she was able, and a little shiver of fear went up her spine before she stomped it down again. “But I’ve never met anybody like you and...anyway, you’re right. It’s stupid to be tearing myself up over it when I could just be kissing you instead.” 

“Very logical,” he laughed, and Marinette kicked his shin lightly.

“Take off this ridiculous jacket,” she told him, tugging. “I can’t take you seriously in this thing.” 

“I don’t know, I’m suddenly a lot fonder of it than I was a moment ago,” Luka grinned, putting his hands over hers on the lapels. His tone was teasing, but his thumbs caressed the backs of her hands, and there was a light in his eyes that had her heart galloping all over again. 

She slipped her hands away, and Luka fumbled at the hem until he found the switch, turned the lights off, and shrugged the jacket off, dropping it carelessly on the trunk beside them before reaching for her again.

They were still wrapped up in each other when Rose popped her head in the attic looking for them, and rattled the windows with her scream.


	17. The Longest Night

Luka played assistant while Marinette got the kids all garbed in their costumes, making little final adjustments and snipping hanging threads and acting for all the world as if this was just as serious as any fashion show she’d ever worked, instead of the dress rehearsal for a small town library Christmas pageant. He followed her around, holding things, handing her what she needed, and trying not to get caught mooning over her like the lovesick sap he was. The kids already had plenty of ammo to use against him, so he tried to keep a professional demeanor—but that really probably only made them snicker harder. 

Mostly, though, they were too excited about their outfits to care. Marinette had found a way to interpret the costumes that felt true to who these kids were, and that was probably rarer than it should be. 

The angels in particular were a masterpiece, especially given how little white there was in his rock star wardrobe. They glittered and shimmered with all of the hardware and rhinestones, and their wings were dangerous-looking concoctions made of wire and trailing fabric and dangling crystals and beads. They looked like the kinds of beings who would have to announce their presence with “Fear not!” and it was _awesome._

The angels weren’t actually his favorite part, though. Marinette had gotten quickly flustered in the face of Rose’s eager excitement, and started making excuses to leave. She’d snatched his notebook out of his pocket, pulled the pen out of the coil and scribbled her phone number on the back, babbling only semi-coherently as she did so. Then she’d snatched up the lighted jacket, kissed him quickly, and fled. Luka had been too busy fending off Rose’s interrogation to even think to question why she had taken the jacket, until she brought out the costumes for Mary and Joseph. The holy family were now softly illuminated with cleverly concealed fiber optic lights in their hoods. Somehow Marinette had managed to turn off the flashing and camouflage the lights enough to give the children a soft glow, like a renaissance painting come to life (if renaissance madonnas had punk haircuts). 

That wasn’t really why he liked it, though. Marinette had removed the lights so carefully, and repaired the jacket so cleverly, that it was now as good as new, if a bit smaller than it had been, and she had taken to wearing it all the time. Catching a glimpse of his jacket under her big pink puffy winter coat made him grin like a fool every time.

She was wearing it even now, and he felt his grin turn dopey and soft again as he watched Marinette get down on the floor without a second thought to fix a hem that had come loose. She was so amazing, and the last few days had been wonderful, whether they were just driving aimlessly around town and chatting while they admired the lights, or lost in tender looks and touches, or just sharing space while they worked on their own projects. Luka knew without doubt that he was utterly in love with her. It might shatter him when she left, but they had four precious days left and Luka planned to make the most of them. Besides, who knew what could happen? It was the modern age, and long distance relationships were a thing, and surely there was something they could work out— 

Luka quashed those thoughts as quickly as he could. It wasn’t a good idea to be thinking that way, and he didn’t even know if Marinette would welcome anything of the kind from him. Better to stay in the moment. Something would work out; if she felt anything close to what he felt for her, she couldn’t leave him totally behind...and if she didn’t, then it was just as well for things to end now. He’d get over it. Somehow.

In the meantime, he’d enjoy every conversation, every soft look, every touch and kiss and sigh of his name from her lips.

Yep, he was absolutely basking in the knowledge of how completely hopeless he was.

Marinette stood up and backed away, looking at her handiwork with satisfaction as Rose began rounding up the kids to start the actual rehearsal. Luka sidled casually to Marinette’s side, letting his hand brush against hers. She wiggled her fingers in between his absently, and Luka grinned that stupid grin again, aiming it at the floor. 

Teenage giggling suggested that he wasn’t at all successful in hiding it. He rolled his eyes, but the grin remained. _Beat it_ , he mouthed at the kid who was snickering, raising his eyebrows threateningly, but instead the kid burst into outright laughter and a chorus of juvenile “ooooohs,” suddenly filled the air. Confused, they followed the pointing fingers and looked up to find one of the youngsters sitting on the bookshelf behind them, holding a piece of mistletoe out over their heads. 

Luka rolled his eyes. “Oh, very funny, Rowan,” he scoffed, but then he turned and caught Marinette’s face in his hands and kissed her. Without lifting his lips from hers, he hooked one arm around her neck and the other around her waist and bent her backwards. The liplock itself wasn’t anything special—he wasn’t about to ravish her in front of a bunch of schoolkids, particularly since he knew all of their parents personally and did _not_ need the earful they would give him—but it didn’t matter; the utterly cliche dip was as gross to them as a real kiss would have been. 

“EW!” screamed the younger children, while the older ones either whooped or groaned, and Luka sent them a wicked grin as he set Marinette back up on her feet. 

“Never bluff a Couffaine,” he told them, reaching out to ruffle Rowan’s multicolored head as he dropped down frm the bookshelf. Rose gave him a smug look as she came to retrieve the delinquents, and Luka couldn’t even make himself glare at her. 

Marinette smacked his chest and he just winked at her, catching her hand and holding it to his heart. He got a little charge from the way her stern face twitched and then melted into a smile almost as silly as his own. He bent down as if drawn by a magnet and their lips met for a softer, more genuine kiss, and then she shoved his face away and turned back to watch the wise men start their parade to Bethlehem from the back of the library. 

Luka looped his arms around Marinette’s waist and shook his head slightly as he watched the shepherds, decked in shredded leather and ripped denim and artistically mussed as though they really had been lounging around a field, cower before the rhinestone-studded angel glittering brilliantly in the light of the old spot Rose had bullied or begged from somewhere. “You’re a genius,” he murmured in her ear. 

She tensed a little, but snuggled back in his arms. Luka sighed softly and nuzzled her temple, wishing he could help her, but whatever she was going through in her creative life, she was going to have to figure out for herself. He found her hand with his again and laced her slender, hard-working fingers through his own. 

They both jumped when the library doors flew open with a bang. Everyone jumped or stiffened, and a room full of wide eyes turned to look at the tall, blond woman wearing an absurdly large hat and a fur stole stomp into the library like it was a fashion runway.

Luka felt Marinette gasp, and tightened his hold on her. 

The woman looked around, and demanded in a voice that echoed off the walls. “Well, where is she? Marinette Dupain-Cheng, get out here this instant or you’re _fired_.”

Marinette pushed him away, and walked toward the tall woman, who spun on her heels to face her. “A-Audrey,” Marinette stammered. “What are you doing here?” 

“My dear, the question is, what are _you_ doing here?” Audrey replied with a sniff, looking around the little library. “No wonder you haven’t been able to get any work done in this dismal place.” 

“Audrey, I’m on leave,” Marinette began, and Audrey flapped a hand dismissively. 

“Leave, schmeave. We have _deadlines_ , Marinette. Deadlines _you_ are appallingly behind on.” 

“B-behind?” Marinette stuttered, looking taken aback. “We were on schedule! I left _very specific_ instructions!” Luka came up behind her and put a hand on her back in silent support.

“Those instructions were _ridiculous_ ,” Audrey sneered. “The products were completely unacceptable. And since you didn’t _deign_ to answer my calls, I came to fetch you myself. If you weren’t so talented I would have just fired you on the spot for abandoning things in such a state.” 

He felt Marinette tense under his hand, and her fists clenched. “Unacceptable—Audrey, you approved those designs! If the production team—” 

“ _You_ are the designer,” Audrey accused, pointing an immaculately manicured finger in Marinette’s face. She flinched, and Luka had to fight every instinct in his body to keep still. “This is _your_ failure. Now come along. You have a lot to make up for. Get in the car, we’ll stop and pick up your things on the way.” She turned and stalked to the door, clearly expecting Marinette to follow. 

Marinette stared after her with her mouth open. Then she closed it, swallowed, and straightened her shoulders—and moved to follow Audrey. 

Luka caught her hand without meaning to. “Marinette,” he said, and she turned her face to look up at him. For a moment they just stared at each other, and cold dread coiled in the pit of Luka’s stomach. 

“I guess this is it,” she said softly. “I’m sorry, Luka. Goodbye.” 

Luka stared at her as her hand slipped out of his. She picked up her pink coat as she passed the chair where he had placed it earlier. She dug in the pocket a moment, and took out a box, putting it on the table. She took one look back at him, and then followed Audrey out, catching the door so that it closed with a quiet click instead of a slam. 

“Luka,” Rose whispered at his side, and he barely even felt her touch on his arm. He watched through the windows of the library door as Marinette, head down, shoulders bowed, got into Audrey’s limo. 

Only when the car pulled away down the street could he move. He closed his mouth, and swallowed. Then he went quietly to his own coat, and put it on slowly, aware of the eyes on him the entire time. 

He emerged into the sun and cold, fresh air, and looked around. The street was as it always was this time of year, with families and couples and individuals meandering through. Tinsel decorations sparkled on the streetlights, and the storefronts all had fake snow frosting the corners of their windows.

Luka blinked against the glare, so bright it brought tears to his eyes, put his hands in his pockets, and turned for home. 

* * *

Marinette didn’t even hear most of Audrey’s chatter on the ride back to the city. She couldn’t stop thinking about that look on Luka’s face. 

_I should never have kissed him_ , she thought, staring out of the window. _I knew better, and I let him make me believe_. 

She sighed—silently, so as not to draw Audrey’s notice. She wasn’t being fair. Of course it was a shock, what happened. Neither of them had been expecting it. There had been no bittersweet farewell, no moment of closure. No last kiss goodbye, no one last diamond moment to hold on to as the sands began to flow again. 

He would get over it, once the shock passed, she thought mournfully, running an absent finger over the leather wrap on the door handle. He’d send her a text later, she was sure, something sweet and thoughtful, to let her know he was alright and that he was sorry things happened the way they had, but good luck and have a good life and oh, thanks for the present, that was really sweet.

And then he’d go back to his cozy life and forget her like he intended to all along. 

She was so _stupid_ , letting him talk her into living that little fantasy for even a day, let alone— 

She shook her head slightly. This was better. It only would have been worse if she’d stayed longer. 

...at least she had the memories to hold in her heart, though. He’d been right about that. She could remember what it was like to feel like he loved her, his affection and pride and unwavering support, his warm, sweet kisses, and the way that he looked at her…the way everyone giggled at them in the cafe. The quiet, private times when she’d curled in the hollow of his body as he held his guitar around her and played just for her, and she hadn’t had to do anything or be anything. The time he’d taken her up on the hill and they’d stood amongst the young trees, cuddled close against the chill as they looked up at the stars and for once she felt like the universe was big enough to let her breathe...

She fingered the lapel of his jacket beneath her own. Okay, maybe he’d been right too. Maybe the memories were worth having. 

If only she could have stayed. 

She gave another small shake of her head, blinking back tears, keeping her face averted from Audrey slightly. 

“And the colors were _atrocious_ —”

“I told you the color scheme was wrong,” Marinette said before she could think the better of it. 

“It’s _your_ job to make it work,” Audrey snapped. “ _You_ sourced those fabrics.” 

“According to _your_ specifications,” Marinette shot back, her tone even but unyielding. “If you want to overrule me, that’s your prerogative, but don’t blame me for the outcome.” 

Audrey pulled off her ever-present sunglasses and looked at Marinette with narrowed eyes. “If you don’t want this opportunity,” she said coldly, “then say so and stop wasting my time.” 

Marinette shrank slightly. “Of course I do,” she sighed miserably, looking back out of the window. “It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.” 

“And don’t you forget it,” Audrey sneered, sliding her sunglasses back on. “Or I’ll find someone else to clean up your mess.”

Marinette gritted her teeth and clenched her fists in her lap, willing herself to stay silent.

Speaking up wouldn’t do any good anyway. 

* * *

He was still sitting at the kitchen table, staring blankly into space, when Rose got home. Luka didn’t even hear the door open, but he did hear Rose’s footsteps approaching over the wood floor. 

“Luka,” Rose said softly, but he didn’t look at her. She set a small box on the table in front of him. “I’m pretty sure this was meant for you.” When he didn’t move, she slid it over until it touched his fingers. “You should open it.”

She waited a moment longer, and when he didn’t move, she sighed. “I’m sorry, Luka.” He listened to her retreat, leaving him alone again. 

Sometime later he felt fingers slide through his hair, and the familiar song of his mother’s jangling jewelry was quickly followed by her scent surrounding him as she bent and pressed her lips to his forehead. “I’m proud of ye, son,” she told him. “Take as long as ye need.” 

He sat there until it was dark outside, without really thinking about anything in particular. He just felt...numb. 

Finally he looked at the box Rose had left him. He contemplated it for a moment, and then drew himself up with a sigh, and picked up the box. It was a nice box, lined in silver ribbon. Trust Marinette to pay attention to every detail. He fumbled it a little before he managed to slide the top off. 

There was a pair of black leather gloves inside. Luka frowned slightly, picking them up. The leather was buttery soft, like it was already broken in, and...he slid one on his hand and flexed his fingers.

It fit perfectly, with none of the tightness or resistance that had always bothered him in the past. “You little sneak,” he murmured, tears stinging his eyes even as he smiled. “How’d you pull this off, hmm?” 

Luka remembered suddenly how they’d been talking at Sally’s, and she had walked her little fingers over each finger of his hand, like it was something completely idle. He’d thought it was cute at the time. He’d thought she was just teasing him, since she pulled her hand away every time he tried to take it, but…

He’d be willing to put money on it that she had used some of the leather from his wardrobe to make these, and she’d chosen something he’d worn enough to take the stiffness out of the leather. And the accents around the cuffs and along the darts at the back of the hands...those were from the jacket she’d kept. The one she’d had to cut down when she took the lights out.The one she’d still been wearing, when she walked out today.

Luka swallowed a lump in his throat. All that work that she’d done, on the children’s costumes, and she’d found time to do this for him as well. Because she cared about him, and she loved his music, and she wanted him to take care of his hands. 

“Marinette,” he sighed, letting his head fall on the table. “You’re killing me here.” 

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there after that before Juleka’s hand rested lightly on his back. She didn’t say anything, just stayed there, and after a minute, he lifted his head and leaned it back on her. She stroked his hair just like his mother had. 

“You need a ride to the bus station in the morning?” Juleka asked. 

Luka closed his eyes. “Yeah.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't hurt me it had to happen lol


	18. Change

She was crisp and professional, her makeup perfect, and she stood easily, if not comfortably, in the heels she had spent years trying to master. She’d done her hair up in a professional, competent style, and she looked every inch the businesswoman she was, and the fashion mogul she one day hoped to be. 

The only thing out of place on her was her jacket, and Marinette took it off and folded it over her arms before she opened the heavy wooden door. 

“Much better,” Audrey sniffed as Marinette walked into the atelier, on time to the minute despite the obscenely early hour. “I’m glad to see the country rube look was just a temporary affliction.” 

“I was on vacation,” Marinette reminded her, laying her jacket over a chair. Her fingers lingered on it a moment before she took off her purse and set it down in the seat of the chair.

“What was on vacation was your taste, clearly. Sabrina!” Audrey’s assistant jumped up, hurrying to remove the dust covers from the row of mannequins standing there. “Look at this disaster,” Audrey snapped, and Marinette winced as the garments emerged. “If I put this on the runway, the audience will be asleep in minutes!” 

“This is fixable,” Marinette said thoughtfully, circling the mannequin. “It’s not ideal, but, there’s parts of this we can work with. This is an opportunity, really.”

Audrey snorted. “Do tell.”

Marinette turned to her. “Audrey, all the complaints on the last line were that it was too commercial, too—well, too safe. We can have these remade, but it would be a waste. They’ll still come out boring and unoriginal, because they  _ are _ . But if we can get creative and think outside of the box, we can turn this whole thing around. Look—Sabrina, hand me those scissors—” She moved towards one of the dresses, and reached for the fabric. “If we just—”

“ _ What _ do you think you are doing?” Audrey snarled, grabbing her wrist with a perfectly manicured hand. “You won’t touch anything here without my approval first!”

“Audrey,” Marinette sighed, facing her again, aware that her exasperation was showing in her face and not particularly caring to hide it. “I can’t do this. You hired me for my vision. Let me use it! This, this process you’re trying to force me through, it’s crushing me. I understand, you want some control over the final product, and I’m fine with that, but there comes a point where I need you to trust me. I’ll make mistakes, sure, but Audrey—” She turned and held her hands up as she gestured to the line laid out in front of her. “This whole season is a mistake right now! We tried it your way and we got this.” She turned back to Audrey. “Let me be the designer you hired,” she pleaded, eyes alight. “This is what I’m good at. Let me turn this around for you! Just...trust me.” 

Audrey’s eyes narrowed. “Are you finished?” she said coldly. 

Marinette’s mouth dropped open a little, and her back straightened. 

“Apparently,” she murmured, as Audrey stalked past her. 

“Trusting you is what got me into this mess,” Audrey fumed. “I brought you under my wing, and  _ you _ made me a laughing stock—”

“That’s not true, Audrey, I know I still have a lot to learn but I’m not—” 

“I put my name in your hands—” 

“I was inexperienced, I made some mistakes, but that line was  _ not _ a—” 

“Despite your multiple  _ failures _ , I keep giving you more chances. And now you ask me to trust you? Don’t make me laugh.” Audrey whirled and bent down so that her eyes were level with the petite designer. “And if you can’t handle the pressure,” Audrey sneered, “then maybe you’re not cut out for this business.” 

“Maybe I’m not cut out for  _ your _ business,” Marinette said softly. 

They stood, eye to eye for a moment, and then Audrey’s eyes narrowed. “You know how to find the door any time you’re ready,” she bit out, and for another, completely silent moment, neither of them moved. Apparently feeling her point had been made, Audrey straightened and turned around. “Now,” she said crisply. “ _ Here’s _ what we’re going to do—” 

Marinette took a deep breath, and while Audrey prattled on, she turned on the point of her heel and started walking. Sabrina stared at her with wide eyes as Marinette picked up her coat—Luka’s coat—and walked calmly out of the office, sliding it on and pulling it tight around her. 

She heard the scream just as the elevator doors were closing, and began to giggle, putting one hand across her mouth and feeling her eyes crinkle up with her mirth. 

Several heads turned to her when she arrived at the lobby, and she smiled brightly at all of them. More than one smiled back, but Marinette didn’t slow or speak, just turned towards the tall glass doors. 

She was only halfway across the lobby before Audrey burst out of the other elevator. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Audrey roared. “Get back here or you’re  _ fired _ .” 

Marinette choked on another slightly hysterical laugh, and her step only quickened, her heels slamming into the marble tile of the lobby, the clacking loud enough to make the guard at the desk turn and stare. She flashed him a quick smile as she passed, and he grinned at her, sitting back in his chair. Out of the corner of her eye, Marinette thought she saw him mouth,  _ about time _ , but then she was walking through the doors and the winter sun was blinding her. She stood for a moment in front of the doors, blinking, and then took a couple of quick steps forward and threw up her arm to hail a cab. One veered out of the traffic and pulled up at the curb.

Marinette jerked the door open and nearly threw herself inside. She picked both feet up off the pavement and swung them inside, and then pulled the door closed after her. 

“The 6th street bus station, please,” she said breathlessly, buckling herself in. As the cab pulled out, she fell back into her seat, and brought shaking hands to her cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm cheating because although this chapter is labeled "Change" I wrote it without even looking at the prompt list! It is a change though because I had originally planned to go straight into the next piece, I felt like it would be disappointing without this scene. Fortunately it came together quickly so I don't have to keep you in suspense!
> 
> Also I keep forgetting to mention it but many many thanks to Malcolm Reynolds for being my proofreader, sounding board, and general talk-me-down-off-the-ledge-er. 💜


	19. Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for this chapter was, appropriately, "Wait," and I thank you for being patient enough to get this far.

Luka glanced at the screen showing the bus’s ETA. He hated waiting. Those last five minutes before a show started had always been torture; not enough time to do anything useful or distract himself and too much time to think about useless things. Which is what he was doing now. 

Because this was crazy, even for him, he admitted to himself as he adjusted the strap of his guitar across his chest, and then shifted his grip on the duffel bag at his side. He didn’t even know where he was going, not really, and his only hope was to text Marinette when he got to the city and hope she was willing to see him. He had money (though not as much as people often assumed he did), so he could find a place to stay for a few days, but that was the extent of his plans. He was pretty sure he could find her boss on the internet if he had to look, and find out where her office was, but he hoped she would just text him back because he really didn’t want to have to resort to creepy stalker tactics to see her, but...

He just had to see her. He wasn’t sure what would happen next, but he had to see her again. 

_ Yeah, that’s really a plan, Couffaine. _

Even so, he hadn’t questioned the decision even once since he made it. Even if she turned him around and sent him right back home, he had to try. He couldn’t move forward without at least knowing that he had tried, that he hadn’t just let her walk out of his life without a word of protest. If it had to end, he wanted to at least have told her he loved her to her face. He wanted to at least kiss her goodbye properly. 

He really hoped he wouldn’t have to, though. 

The bus pulled up, and he sighed in relief as the baggage handlers ran up to open the cargo compartment. He’d still be waiting on the bus, but at least it would be a long enough wait that he could do something. Maybe work on that song. Maybe come up with something to say to Marinette besides “I love you beyond all reason and I’m more than willing to sleep on your floor and play dive bars every night for a living if it means I get to see you every day.” 

He wasn’t so much watching the people exiting the bus, though his eyes were turned in that direction, waiting for some indication that they were ready for the return passengers to board, when a splash of pink emerging from the doorway caught his eye. A pink business suit, half-covered by a very familiar jacket...for a moment he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, until she tripped on the bus steps and nearly landed herself in the snow. 

“Marinette?” he breathed. Her face turned towards him as she scanned the station, and he couldn’t move. It was her, she was here, she— 

She came back. 

She didn’t make any move towards the baggage they were still unloading from under the bus, just settled her little purse on her shoulder, looked around, and then seemed to pick a direction. 

Without thinking, he sucked in a lungful of air and bellowed her name. 

She jumped and whirled around, stumbling again, and then her eyes widened as she spotted him. If he’d had any doubts about  _ why _ she came back, they disappeared the moment she saw him. Her entire face lit up. “Luka!” she cried, and he dropped his things without a thought to run and catch her up in his arms. 

Marinette threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. “I understand now,” she told him, her voice trembling. “I don’t like the person that I am back there. I just—I was standing there while Audrey tore it apart, and all I could think about was that I didn’t even care because they weren’t my clothes, they were hers, so really she was only criticizing herself, and...and I realized I hadn’t made anything that was  _ mine _ in a long time. I tried to change her mind, but...she wouldn’t listen. So I...I just walked out. I walked out and I went straight to the bus station and…” She swallowed, blushing as she looked at him. “And I came home.” 

Luka’s heart was so full he didn’t have any words, but it didn’t seem to matter, based on the way she smiled at him, choking back a little sob, and began to laugh. “I didn’t even bring any clothes.” 

“You can wear mine,” he promised recklessly, and then nearly bit off his own tongue when her eyes widened and he realized how that had sounded. “I mean—uh—”

Marinette just shook her head slightly and giggled, and then she stretched up on her toes and he forgot everything else but the soft, warm movement of her mouth as she kissed him, without the slightest hesitation. “We can negotiate the clothes situation later,” she grinned, as his brain continued to implode in slow motion. 

“I love you,” he blurted as soon as he could remember what words were, and he didn’t even wait for Marinette to answer before he was kissing her again, trying to press the words into her lips over and over again as she tried to laugh and return his kisses at the same time. 

There was a cough behind him. “Sir?” 

Luka glanced back to find one of the bus station employees eyeing him. “Were you going to get on the bus?” she asked finally.

“Ah,” Luka said, blinking at the bus. “No, thanks.” He turned back to Marinette, grinning. “I think I’m good right here.” 

Marinette giggled, and if he’d thought she was beautiful before, she  _ sparkled  _ now, her brow smooth and unwrinkled, her shoulders straight and relaxed, her blue eyes clear of everything but happy tears. 

“Are we going to stand here all day?” Marinette teased, squeezing his arm. “Because it’s freezing and I could really go for soup and tea at Sally’s.”

Luka laughed from pure joy, and tucked her under his arm, bringing her along with him as he went to pick up the things he had let fall.

She looked curiously down at his bag, her forehead wrinkling just a bit, and then up at him. “Were you going to go somewhere?” She blinked, as if suddenly realizing something. “Why are you even here?” 

Luka flushed. “Well. I had maybe sort of a stupid half-baked plan that I was going to find the girl of my dreams and throw myself at her feet, but…” He grinned. “Taking her to lunch sounds like a lot less work.”

Marinette snuggled up against his side. “You were...really going to come after me?”

“Yeah,” Luka admitted. “I just...didn’t really like the way we left things. I felt like I needed to see you again, at least once. There were just too many things I didn’t get to say, and…” he sighed. “I just couldn’t let you walk out of my life without even trying to work something out. I meant what I said back there.” 

“Luka,” Marinette said, and he glanced down at her. The look on her face as she smiled up at him took his breath away, and her words stopped his heart. “I love you too.” 

Luka dropped all of his things for the second time and caught her face in his gloved hands, kissing her firmly. When he pulled back, Marinette was giving him the same dopey grin he’d been wearing before she left, and Luka had to laugh. He bent his knees and caught her around the waist and lifted, spinning her around. Their lips met as she came down, and he followed her until her feet were back on the ground, not at all sure that his ever would be again. 

When he pulled back, though, he frowned. “Did you get taller?” 

Marinette burst out laughing, and collapsed against him. 


	20. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at last...thank you so much for sticking with me through this, even when life got a little whacky on me! This fic was such an accident but I've had fun with it and I'm glad you all have too. I'm intending to write a proper beginning for it at some point and publish it as a separate fic, but it might take a while. I'll add a chapter here when I do so to notify everyone who's subscribed. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this last little bit and thank you so much for all the comments and support!

Marinette sat on a cold, hard plastic chair, one of many lined up in rows in the library, and watched with a glow of pride as the children paraded through the familiar scenes of the nativity story. The children had been ecstatic when she had walked in on Luka’s arm that night, making quite an embarrassing, if very touching, scene over her. Marinette hadn’t realized that she meant so much to them and had been thoroughly blushing and tongue tied by the time Rose ushered the young people off “backstage.” Now, as she watched them, Marinette could finally admit to herself that she had done a good job. She felt a bit of renewed confidence in herself, looking at what she’d accomplished, at how it made the children  _ feel  _ and the impact it had on them.

It hadn’t all been an illusion. She was good at this. She’d made a difference for Rose and these children, and she was proud of herself. 

Her eyes drifted to the side of the risers that made up the little makeshift stage, where Luka was sitting not quite in shadow, playing his electric guitar. Apparently at some point, unbeknownst to her, he had composed a melody to back the play. Luka’s composition drew on traditional Christmas songs, evoking the solemnity and gravity of the scene, but delivered on his electric guitar, the music leant the perfect atmosphere to the slightly unorthodox scene. His instrument and his technique gave the music a modern edge that went well with Marinette’s costumes and the children themselves. She wondered when he had planned to tell her about this little addition to the play. Was he always intending for it to be a surprise, or would he have told her about it if she hadn’t left?

Not that it really mattered. She was here now, and she was hearing him play with his heart as he always did, and goosebumps prickled on her skin at the way it all came together. 

Sabine squeezed her upper arm, and Gina, on her other side, put her arm around Marinette. Tom reached over his wife to pat her knee with a huge but gentle hand. The pride radiating from all of them brought tears to Marinette’s eyes and she looked down quickly. 

It had been hard, calling them to tell them what she’d done and why, especially after they’d made so many sacrifices to let her take advantage of the opportunities Audrey offered her. Making that call was almost harder than walking out had been, but the outpouring of love and support that followed her confession had left her sobbing grateful tears into Luka’s shirt afterwards. 

Tom and Sabine lost no time in packing up and coming down to town even though it was a day earlier than they had planned. They had stopped by and picked up Marinette’s forgotten things, fortunately still packed in the apartment she shared with Alya, so she hadn’t had to wear Luka’s clothes for more than a night, and they’d only scolded her a little for running off so unprepared. 

Luka on the other hand had only laughed there in the bus station when he realized what she was wearing and how unsuitable her shoes were for walking through the snowy town. He’d rented a locker and stuffed his bag into it, assuring her that he’d come back for it later. Then he’d slung his guitar on her back so that she could climb up on his, and piggybacked her all the way to the cafe. Juleka had met them there later and, disgusted at the way they were mooning over each other, chucked Luka’s truck keys at him and stalked out, saying she’d get a ride back from Rose later rather than be stuck with the two of them. 

_ Well _ , Marinette thought, smiling to herself,  _ I can’t say we didn’t deserve it _ . 

There were moments where Marinette began to feel a fluttering panic, a fear that she’d made a terrible mistake that she would end up regretting forever, but sitting here, watching those kids absolutely glowing in the costumes she’d made for them...it wasn’t exactly the same feeling as watching her first fashion line walk the runway, but it was diamond-bright just the same, a thrill that swelled in her chest and wanted to spill out and overflow in happiness and excitement. The soft light around the holy family from the fiber optics, the glittering brightness of the angels in the spotlight, it was all coming together in such beautiful harmony, and the terrified shepherds in their artistic homeliness, punctuated by the bright colors and determined passion of the kids themselves...

Yes, this was something worth doing, and worth treasuring, even if it was never seen by anyone outside of this room, and even if she wasn’t sure what the future held for her, she couldn’t regret being here for this. 

She wasn’t expecting it when the cast took their bows and Rose called her upstage to join them. She went, because she had the feeling the kids would have dragged her up beside them if she hadn’t, but she took her brief bow with Rose and Luka, and then stood back with them and applauded the children with the rest. 

After that, she found herself caught up in an unexpected whirl of humanity, accepting thanks and congratulations from people she didn’t know at all. She smiled and shook hands and disclaimed praise, steadied by Luka’s presence at her back and more than happy to deflect attention as much as she could to a fluttering, effervescent Rose, who garnered attention as much for the new ring glittering on her finger as for the successful show. 

“Your family left already,” Luka said at last in her ear. “Guess they figured you could get your own ride.” 

Marinette smiled up at him. “Wonder where they got an idea like that.” 

He grinned, and dropped a kiss on top of her head. “Let me pack up my stuff.” 

Marinette tried to stay out of the way as volunteers started stacking chairs and breaking down the set and stage. By the time Luka had his gear packed up and loaded into the truck, there was hardly anything left. They left Rose and Juleka to lock up and climbed into the truck. The silence felt strange after the noise of the breakdown, but Marinette breathed a sigh of relief as Luka started it up. 

“Enjoy the peace while you have it,” Luka advised, as if he’d read her mind. “Definitely not going to be much of it where we’re going.” 

Marinette giggled. “I guess we should be happy our families are getting along so well.” 

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled about it,” Luka chuckled. “But somehow I think this is going to be a Christmas Eve dinner to remember.” 

When they pulled up to the farmhouse, Marinette had to agree. Even before they got inside voices were audible, raised in what seemed to be an improvised song about...baking ingredients? When they opened the door, Tom was holding forth in the great room, while Anarka bellowed a harmony to his made-up lyrics, and Gina was laughing hysterically while Sabine was just shaking her head with a fond smile. 

Luka’s arm slipped around her waist, and Marinette leaned against him, muffling a laugh in his shoulder.

“Ah, here come the lovebirds!” Tom declared a little too heartily.

“Papa,” Marinette admonished, but didn’t step away from Luka. 

“Ah, sweetie, I’m just so...so happy to see you happy,” Tom said, lowering his arms and suddenly sounding a bit choked up. “You’ve been so...well.” 

Sabine stood and went to him, patting his arm. “We’re glad you’ve found your feet again,” she said, with a happy sigh. 

“Well, don’t just stand there, come in, come in,” Gina cried, flapping her hands. “Come here, my Marinetta, surely you can spare a hug for your Nonna, as free as you’ve been with them lately.” 

Blushing, Marinette slipped away from Luka and went to hug her Grandma. 

“I am so happy to see you find happiness, my fairy,” Gina whispered in her ear. “You looked so downtrodden before. You will find the right path, I have no doubt.” 

Marinette smiled, and squeezed her a little tighter. “Thank you, Grandma.”

“Luka!” Anarka cried, tossing a pair of drumsticks to him that he fumbled and barely caught. “Back me up!” 

Chuckling, Luka crossed to the drumset in the corner of the room while his mother picked up a guitar from its stand and slung it on. 

“Let me show ye who taught this boy to play,” Anarka grinned, and strummed a chord that Marinette felt all the way in her chest. Anarka watched Luka spin the drumsticks and start up a rhythm, tapping her boot along, and then began to play. Luka gave Marinette a flirty wink when he saw her watching him, and Marinette felt herself blushing. A song or two later, Rose and Juleka joined the party and the band, until the beeping oven announced it was time for dinner. 

Then it was an entirely different type of chaos as the Dupain-Chengs took over. They’d commandeered the Couffaine family kitchen for most of the day, and now they covered the table with food with a brisk efficiency that left the Couffaines blinking in confusion. As soon as everyone was done eating, the music started again, on the stereo system this time as everyone was too full to play properly.

Instead, an impromptu dance party broke out, which was a little challenging given the number of people and the variety of stuff scattered around the great room, but everyone was having fun, so they made it work. Finally, out of breath and with a stitch in her side, Marinette picked up Luka’s jacket from where she’d left it and slipped it on as she went out of the back door onto the porch. The coat wasn’t really warm enough but it kept the wind off, and flushed as she was, Marinette thought she could manage.

After a few minutes though she was starting to shiver, and she had just about decided to go back inside when she felt a sudden warmth against her back, and a strong pair of arms encircling her. 

“All partied out?” Luka teased, and this time Marinette shivered at the way his lips tickled her ear. 

“Getting there,” Marinette admitted, leaning back against him with a sigh.

Luka opened his heavy winter coat, and Marinette giggled a little as she snuggled back against his chest. He tucked the sides around her and looped his arms around her to hold them in place over her. “They are a bit much,” he agreed, glancing back towards the house.

“I mostly don’t mind,” Marinette told him, turning her head slightly to rest more comfortably against his shoulder. “I just needed a moment for some peace.” 

He hummed agreeably, and nuzzled her hair, and for a long moment they stood there, looking at the dark hill of trees looming up beside the house. Marinette grew pensive, as she considered how much her life had changed in the last couple of weeks. 

“Hey,” Luka murmured, nudging his nose against her temple. “What’s going on in there?” 

Marinette shook her head slightly. “I don’t even know,” she admitted. “There’s a lot I don’t know right now. I don’t know...where to go from here.”

She felt the vibration of his chuckle against her back. “I know the feeling,” he said, squeezing her lightly. “But I have faith. You’ll find a way forward, once you have a little distance.”

Marinette pressed her lips together, and then asked, “And you?” 

“And me,” Luka sighed, smiling into her hair. “I’m...still not really sure either. But...the music is there. More than it has been in a while. I feel good about what I’ve been writing, I just...have to decide what I want to do with it. I could try negotiating with the label. See how desperate they are to have Luke Stone back. I could forget about all that and make my living as a songwriter. I’ve got some ins with other artists now and with the right agent...I could keep the rights to the songs and perform them my way, for smaller crowds, and let someone use their own interpretation to bring it to the rest of the world. I could open up a shop and teach, either here, or in the city somewhere if…” he trailed off, but his hand found hers and locked their fingers together. “I guess I wasn’t ready to open my mind to the possibilities before now, but once I started thinking about it...there’s a lot of options.” 

“Possibilities,” Marinette murmured thoughtfully. “I could forget about becoming rich and famous, and just open a boutique business—somewhere,” she suggested, blushing when Luka chuckled again. “I could build a commission-based business. Work with individuals...Working with Audrey did have its benefits, and I have a lot of contacts that I didn’t have before.” She remembered something, and turned around in Luka’s arms to look up at him. “My um, ex-boyfriend, Adrien?”

“The model?” Luka tilted his head. 

Marinette nodded. “He sent me a message a couple days ago to ask if I would design his fiancee’s wedding dress.” She giggled at the look on Luka’s face. “I know. He really doesn’t mean anything by it, though, and...it would be a huge opportunity. There’s going to be so much exposure and asking  _ me _ ...well, it was a huge leap of faith. I’m actually touched that he thought of me.” She shrugged. “If I kill it, it could open a lot of doors.” 

“You’ll kill it,” Luka said, bending down to catch her lips quickly. “If that’s what you want to do.” 

“I think I’d like to. I wouldn’t have to commit to anything beyond that one project, and it would give me something to work on while I figure out what I  _ do _ want. I could…” She dropped her eyes for a moment, and then looked up into his face. “I could stay here with Grandma, while I was working on it. She’s not there half the time anyway and there’s a really nice room upstairs that I could turn into a studio if she’ll let me. Adrien’s traveling all the time anyway, we’d be doing most of the consultations over teleconference, so…” She hesitated, and swallowed nervously. “So if you were okay with me staying here f-for a while…” 

“I’m okay with you staying here as long as you want to,” Luka told her, his hands coming up to hold her face. “And I’m okay with anywhere else you want to go, as long as I get to come with you. I mean…” He looked away. “I’m not looking to steal Jules’ thunder here or anything like that, and we don’t have to be in a hurry to put a label on anything, but...whatever possibilities we each start building from here, I want there to be room for  _ us _ in it. I want to plan for that from the ground up. Long haul.” He took a deep breath, his hands sliding down to her shoulders. “Is that something you want?” 

Marinette looked up into his face, pale and washed out by the porch lights over them though his eyes still glittered bright and blue, and smiled. “I may not have a lot of answers right now,” she said softly. “But I don’t even have to think about that one. Yes, I want that. I want you, for...a long time.” 

Luka’s smile was brilliant, and his face dipped until his forehead rested against hers. “Okay,” he said, a little shakily. “Then I think having you here working on that commission would be wonderful, and give us some time to figure out what the way forward looks like.” 

Marinette felt her own smile stretching as wide and bright as his. “Okay, then. We’ll start from there.” 

Luka took her face in his hands again and kissed her in a rush, and then again, and then they giggled together for a moment. Marinette slid her hands up and around his neck and sighed deeply, contentedly, letting her head fall back and her eyes close. She felt so  _ good _ right now, light and fizzing and full of hope and love and possibilities, and she was glad that she had Luka to hold on to or she just might float away.

Luka made a small noise and she opened her eyes to blink at him but he kissed her again before she could ask him anything. “Stop being so cute,” he mumbled against her lips, “I can’t take it.” She laughed into his mouth as he kissed her again, and he pulled back and grinned at her for a moment before leaning back in more deliberately. Just as their lips were coming together, there was a sudden crash on the other side of the house and an impossibly loud yell, and an answering screech that could only have come from Anarka. 

Marinette clung to Luka, startled, but he just chuckled and sighed. “Well, sounds like Dad’s here,” he said, and looked back at Marinette. “You ready to meet him?”

Marinette’s eyes grew round. “Your dad?  _ Jagged Stone _ ?”

“The one and only,” Luka grinned, taking her hands. “Come on, I really do want you to meet him. I think he’s going to like you.” Marinette somewhat reluctantly let him tug her along with him to the door.

He looked back at her as he opened it, though, and the happy smile, the cheeky wink, and the caress of his rough thumb over the back of her hand, settled her nerves. She squeezed his hand, and then let go, walking through the door he held open for her with squared shoulders and a confidence in her step that wasn’t quite real yet, but felt like it could be someday soon. 


End file.
